


Reconciliation

by manateehugger



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manateehugger/pseuds/manateehugger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan's cousin comes to live with Lady Alys and Simon after his father's death</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ivan managed to stumble out of bed and over to his commconsole, muttering to himself and debated answering his commconsole upon seeing it was from his mother. With a sigh he slumped into the chair and accepted the call.

“Ivan, it’s almost midday did you only just get up,” Lady Alys sighed but did not continue her maternal remonstrations, “I wanted to make sure you were still coming over tonight for our family dinner. It would be good for you to see your cousin.”

“You’re sure this one is actually related to us,” Ivan asked.

“You know Anton is related to us even if he isn’t related to his father,” Lady Alys said with a frown, in some way galactic technologies had been very useful and in others detrimental to the vor way of life. Paternity tests in particular had been a mixed blessing.

“And yes, Friedrich came out of a uterine replicator he is most definitely his father’s son. To what extent I haven’t decided,” Lady Alys stated.

Lady Alys’s younger sister Lady Griselda had also married a high ranking vor officer in the imperial military. Their paths diverged during the pretendership when Griselda’s husband had backed Vordarian instead of Aral Vorkosigan. He should have been executed for his treason. But due to his family connections to Lady Alys the regent Aral Vorkosigan had attempted to be merciful or particularly cruel. The regent had stripped Lord Maximillian Vordela of his rank and titles before dishonorably discharging him from the military and exiling him to Komarr. Lady Griselda had followed him though she could have asked for a divorce.

Lady Alys rarely spoke to her sister and even more rarely spoke about her sister, something she blamed Vordela for. 

“She doesn’t really expect you to get the kid into the Imperial Military Academy, does she,” Ivan winced.

Lady Alys did nothing so obvious as roll her eyes, “I have tried to explain things but,” she waved her hands, “I still haven’t seen the boy in person since I made the mistake of, well he was only a baby then anyway. I suppose I should see what he wants first.”

 

Friedrich got off the shuttle and walked down the stairs and out into the main concourse, a well lit, well cleaned facility jam packed with people heading up into space or coming down to meet their waiting families. He looked around the concourse, his aunt Alys had promised to send the family driver along to pick him up and return him to their home. He still wasn’t sure where to pick up his bags but hoped someone would point it out to him. He looked down at his coat and pulled off the ‘unattended minor’ pin that the jumpship attendant had insisted on pinning on him. He was sixteen, old enough to sign up for the military without his parents permission. Of course that wasn’t a problem, his parents, parent he corrected himself wanted him to get into the imperial academy. Well, parents he re-corrected himself, his father had wanted passionately for him to join. But he was dead now, as of two months ago. Friedrich had told everyone that his father hadn’t come home from his managerial job and his body had been found a few days later outside the dome. It was believable because it was an event that occasionally still happened to Barrayaran officers. A select few knew that his father, Maximillian Vordela, had died in a duel. Friedrich wondered vaguely if his aunt Alys knew. He suspected that she had not been informed. 

His mother had decided that she couldn’t raise a boy on her own. She had gone so far as to claim that it wasn’t suitable considering her vor upbringing. Really she was just sick of having him around. She had decided long ago that she couldn’t fix him and had left that job up to his father. Now she was turning the job over to her sister Lady Alys and her lover, the former chief of ImpSec. Privately Friedrich suspected that she was still bitter that her husband had thrown her golden boy Anton out when the old man had found out that Anton wasn’t his biological son. Anton, about ten at the time, had been taken in by his Komarran family, fortunately for him. But it had permanently marred the relationship of Griselda and her husband. 

When uterine replicators had become available to the general public some ten years later Vordela had insisted on having a son, one that he knew would be his. Friedrich sometimes wished his father had chosen to have more children in order to spread the misery around. As it was the parents had settled on having only one, who was a disappointment to both of them. They frequently blamed each other for everything Friedrich did. He wasn’t masculine enough his father said, he didn’t have the right manners his mother claimed, didn’t talk in a refined manner as far as his mother was concerned or talked like a dandy as far as his father had been concerned.

“Friedrich Vordela,” a large man in a Barrayaran vest with a white shirt and black slacks tucked into boots called to him.

Friedrich snapped out of his reverie, “Oh, yes that’s me, are you my aunt’s driver?”

“Indeed, but where are you bags boy?”

“I- well I do apologize but I’ve never been on a jumpship before and have no idea where baggage claim is,” Friedrich explained.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. We’ll get it sorted out then.”

About a half an hour later Friedrich was settled in the back of the groundcar. Alone, while the driver Christos sat up front. Christos had set the partition down so they could talk and occasionally pointed out various buildings of interest to note. The early evening cast a red and purple glow across the city. Friedrich was left to ponder life outside of a dome. He’d heard others complain of agoraphobia, the anxiety that came with moving from under a dome to the hospitable, domeless atmosphere of Barrayar. Somehow it didn’t bother him. But then he had bigger things to worry about. 

They parked in an underground garage and took a lift up to a spacious apartment. A name entirely unsuitable for the space, Friedrich decided when the driver pushed back the intricately carved double wooden doors to reveal the interior. Not that his home back on Komarr had been tiny, his mother was an excellent businesswoman and had managed to accumulate a good deal of wealth during their exile abroad. Allowing his wife to run several businesses had been the only acquiescence Friedrich’s father had ever made to allowing for anything except the traditional Vor way. He had consoled himself with the fact that her businesses were all boutiques for Vor lady’s dresses. They were popular in their little corner of Komarr.

A middle aged couple sat at the far end of the room on a sofa. Just beyond them was a floor to ceiling window that showed off Barrayar’s skyline.

“Milady, sir, May I present Friedrich Vordela,” Christos announced before bowing himself out taking Friedrich’s luggage with him. 

The woman, his aunt Lady Alys was first up and came over to consider him.  
“Well, you’ve certainly grown since I last saw you,” she noted, being polite enough to not mention that he was only eye level with her and rather short for a Barrayaran male.

Despite the comment she reached over to touch his face, running her palm gently down his cheek, “I am sorry for the loss of your father.”

No, you’re not, he thought. His mother had told him that Lady Alys had hated Maximillian and had urged Griselda to get a divorce. 

“Yes I miss him greatly as well,” Friedrich stated dropping his gaze. He felt horrible at that, he shouldn’t have to lie about missing his father. But there it was.

A silence descended.

Lady Alys gave his hands a final squeeze, “well, come sit with my long time friend Simon and I, let’s try to talk about other things. I told my son Ivan to come tonight as well, though no one ever knows when he’ll decide to show his face.”

Friedrich shook hands with Simon, full eye contact, squeeze firmly but none of that bone crushing nonsense. That was for bravos and men with something to prove his etiquette tutor had explained. Funny how that had always been what his father would do when introduced to a stranger. 

Simon, former chief of Imspec, Aral’s dog and less than secret executioner of all tasks too hot for the local public to know of, offered him a tentative smile. 

Odd that before this meeting I would have expected you to be some suave serial killer with no compunction about murder, Friedrich thought while considering the man. I had no idea you would be so… mild in person sir. Even in his head he added an honorific for the man.

Friedrich forgot to smile back, he was too focused on the appropriate gestures he needed to make. They somehow made it over to the couch without Friedrich putting a foot in his mouth.

Perhaps, Friedrich decided, Captain Illyan didn’t know how to behave in social situations when he was not interrogating a suspect or hunting a would-be assassin. 

“Would you care for something to drink dear? I’m sure you haven’t had anything since descending in the shuttle earlier today,” Alys stated pressing her brooch. 

A minute later a well dressed older woman came in with a cart. Friedrich accepted water. The two adults were handed drinks wordlessly. They must be highly consistent in their drink choices he decided. 

“Your mother mentioned in a vid a year or so back that you had won medals in your school swimming competitions. There are plenty of facilities here should you wish to continue that hobby,” Lady Alys offered.

Friedrich considered this. He was surprised that his mother had noticed or cared enough to mention his success to anyone. She never seemed to have any time for him otherwise, she’d practically thrown him out of the house, bags and all the day he was set to leave for Barrayar. 

“I stopped shortly after that. I don’t swim anymore,” Friedrich stated, cutting off the fact that his father had been furious about it. You prance around in that tiny suit, mostly naked for the pleasure of perverted old men, is that what you’re doing? Or you do it so you can watch your teammates in their suits?

“Oh? Did you replace it with some other activity? I’m afraid I’ve been failing in my duties as an aunt,” Lady Alys apologized.

“Most of my time is spent with the junior cadet corps and fencing,” Friedrich mentioned. My father thought I should be a fine duelist one day if and when it became necessary, he silently added. It’s vor, it’s tradition, he could hear the beginnings of Maximillian’s rant on the subject in his ears even now.

“How very vor of you,” Lady Alys noted. It did not sound like a compliment. She was clearly displeased by his activities.

“I apologize if I’ve offended you in some way, milady,” Friedrich said automatically. His etiquette tutor would have been proud of the sincerity in his voice.

Lady Alys shook her head, “it is unnecessary for you to apologize. You’re young… It merely reminds me of the dark days when men still dueled here and I cannot imagine why anyone my age or older would wish to recreate that pointless waste of life as a game.”

Men still duel milady, Friedrich thought but said nothing. Dueling was punishable by death here, just as it was on Komarr and Friedrich as well as all other witnesses had been sworn to secrecy.

“My father was an avid fencer when he still lived I think he enjoyed the strategy of it,” Friedrich noted, feeling that he ought to say something in defense of the sport.

“I-,” Lady Alys sighed, “I apologize, I meant nothing against your father,” she shook her head, “but let’s get off this topic. Perhaps we should consider the best school to enroll you in.”

“I attempted to figure out the best schools for getting into the Imperial Service Academy. I wasn’t certain I could place into them though,” Friedrich said apologetically. He removed his data pad from his bag and moved to show her the schools he had been looking at.


	2. Chapter 2

Ivan arrived much later to find Simon Illyan seated and looking through a reader of his own in the main reception room.

“So did the kid arrive yet? Am I too early,” Ivan asked. He wanted to get in, meet the boy and then get out without being saddled with the cumbersome responsibility of lugging his much younger cousin around town. Ivan had been forced to do that with Miles in their youth, he didn’t need to deal with another awkward teenager. From the swearing that his mother used to do when referring to her sister’s husband Ivan wouldn’t be surprised if the boy was some young, hulky bravo who was intent on killing himself and everyone around him out of sheer stupidity. 

Yes, his mother did occasionally swear, but it was only under the most dire of circumstances. Mavimillian Vordela had been one of those circumstances.

Simon looked up from his reading and nodded to an open door, “they were discussing schools when I left them. I have no experience in properly educating the boy so I left that in the competent hands of your lady mother.”

Ivan nodded slightly then leaned in closer, “so is he bat-shit psycho like his old man?”

Simon shook his head, “he strikes me as a boy whose goal is to please his father, even in death.”

“Oh, great,” Ivan muttered. Nothing so bad as an obnoxious and possibly homicidal bravo then. But a teenage boy with daddy issues was bound to be annoying. 

“Well if they’re busy I can always come back another time,” Ivan said. He thought that there could be plenty of things he could be doing rather than hanging about a dinner with a relative he neither knew nor expected to like. 

“Ivan, is that you,” his mother’s voice called.

A moment later she appeared in the doorway and then walked over to him. He offered her a regulation kiss on the cheek and half hug. 

She turned to wave his cousin over. Friedrich Reinhard Vordela was surprisingly small and lean considering the few images of Maximillian Vordela that Ivan had seen. The man was supposedly a beast well over six feet tall with muscles on his muscles. Though the two did share the same blonde hair. 

The kid had long eye lashes that framed his dark eyes, those must have been inherited from his mother’s side of the family since they matched Lady Alys’s and Ivan’s. The boy looked almost effeminate despite his non-verbal attempts to appear otherwise. His body language was clearly studied and careful.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Vorpatril,” Friedrich said firmly, he gave full eye contact and a decent grip. Though Friedrich looked really focused on his actions which negated the effect. The kid was clearly trying too hard. Poor bastard, how did you end up here, Ivan wondered.

“Likewise,” Ivan said.

“Well now that my son has arrived I suggest we begin dinner,” Lady Alys said.

They sat around a table with Alys attempting to ask Friedrich questions. Friedrich answered briefly and asked leading questions of his own. He attempted to deflect things away from himself and Lady Alys was polite enough and attuned enough to allow herself to be led away from any discussions the boy wanted to avoid. Ivan wasn’t going to complain, that black armband on the boy’s arm was an obvious reminder to let him alone. God help them if his well meaning but overly nosey mother got the boy to cry. Ivan was not comforting anyone he didn’t absolutely under pain of death and dishonor have to. 

Eventually the end of dinner came and Ivan thought he could escape. Then Lady Alys hit him with the request to show Friedrich around Vorbarra Sultana when he got off work the following evening. Ivan deferred suggesting he wouldn’t know when he got off work. Lady Alys insisted. Ivan made vague promises he didn’t mean to keep. Lady Alys pinned him. Ivan, realizing it was inevitable, acquiesced.

 

It was that same evening as Friedrich was unpacking and going to bed that he noticed his swords were missing. They were his by right if not by acquiescence since they had belonged to his father. They were his now. Or so they should have been but he couldn’t find them anywhere in his luggage. He stepped out of his room and went to go find Christos.

Christos wore an extremely blank look on his face when Friedrich asked him about the dueling swords.

“I think you’d better go talk to Captain Illyan about them,” Christos advised.

Friedrich knocked on the study door to the former chief of ImpSec.

“Enter,” the voice called out. 

So Friedrich did. He saw the blades immediately, glinting in the lamplight as they sat on Simon Illyan’s desk, taking up a good deal of room.

“I was wondering if you had put off unpacking until morning,” Illyan said glancing away from his commconsole and up at the wall chrono. 

“Sir, I don’t understand,” Friedrich said.

“Yes, I see that,” Simon said turning away from the commconsole and towards Friedrich.

“I understand that certain traditions go on unimpeded in the Barrayaran enclaves on Komarr. I don’t know how much these rumors are true if at all. I will tell you now that dueling was outlawed by Emperor Ezar long before you were born. I will also tell you that while you live under this roof I will not allow any misguided behavior so common to young men. I will be holding unto these swords until you enter the Service Academy or otherwise move out,” Illyan stated. He was not asking for permission to do. He was informing Friedrich of his intentions.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Friedrich said with determination.

Simon considered this, deadly calm. “What do you think you are going to do about it,” he asked lightly. 

You are not going to beat this man, Friedrich thought. He has probably forgotten more dirty tricks and violently effective combat moves than you know. 

“I would… appeal to your sense of decency,” Friedrich said uncertainly.

The tension that had begun to build to suffocating heights dissipated abruptly. Simon even smiled at that and sat back in his chair.

“You would?”

Friedrich didn’t know how to continue, he cleared his throat, “we’re both,” not vor, that might be a mistake to mention the former chief of Imperial Secruity’s prole status, would that be offensive?

“We’re both men here and –“ at this Simon displayed a certain pursing of the lips that seemed as if he were trying to hold back a laugh, “and understand the importance of filial piety. These swords were the most important things to my father while he lived and now they are my,” burden, “responsibility to maintain. It would be wrong of me to ignore or otherwise fail to fulfill this responsibility,” Friedrich explained.

Simon gave Friedrich a look he could only interpret as pity.

“I imagine that you have a great number of expectations which have been placed on you by family members, including the wishes of your late father. I am certain that the trip here has been very stressful for you and so I will help you with this responsibility. I will be certain to keep these blades up to the standards your father undoubtedly had for them,” Simon promised.

He’s going to take what’s yours, are you going to stand back and let this happen, his father’s voice demanded. 

If you’re a man you have a right and a duty to defend your belongings.

“I couldn’t ask that of you sir,” Friedrich declared. Blood was pumping loudly in his ears.

“You don’t have to. I insist. I will take care of this responsibility for you, boy,” Simon informed him calmly.

If you’re a man you’d better not let anyone push you around, his father told him, had told him, frequently.

Don’t be weak. Don’t be a coward.

In spite of his legendary status, Simon Illyan at the end of the day was still a sixty something year old man. He was a body birth as they all had been in those days. What was the rate at which men lost muscle mass, lung capacity and heart capacity after twenty? How much more physically able was Friedrich?

Friedrich would be faster wouldn’t he? Despite his own slender frame Simon’s was a similar size. Similar height and weight then so no one had the advantage of more mass or a longer reach. 

You could win, you could win, you could win, his body hummed.

Did you want to face all the rewards and consequences though? 

Are you ready for that violence?

“I see sir. Thank you for… helping me sir,” Friedrich said mechanically.

You’re a coward.

Friedrich turned abruptly and left.

He thought Simon said something more to him be he made no effort to affirm this. 

Friedrich did not make eye contact with Christos when he passed the large man in the hall. He walked into his room and shut the door.

Coward, the word crowed in his father’s voice. It played continuously in his head. It kept him up late that night.


	3. Chapter 3

The following day passed quickly enough, something Friedrich blamed in part on his jump-lag. He was present for breakfast with both Simon Illyan and his aunt. He forced himself to make firm eye contact with both of them and attempted to make conversation though he was still embarrassed from last night.

Not just last night. 

When his father’s second had refused to step in after Maximillian was fatally injured Friedrich had every right and responsibility to take up his father’s blade. 

But you just stood there. You stood there then like you did last night and you did nothing, his inner voice sneered.

His father’s murderer had stood silently by as Maximillian breathed his last. Friedrich had knelt on his father’s left, but Maximillian had kept pushing him away and swearing as Friedrich had tried to stop the bleeding. Maximillian’s second, Pasha had knelt on his father’s right but had offered no words or actions. 

The rest of the small, silent audience had melted into the background. 

Only after Maximillian ceased breathing did any movement resume. 

Friedrich looked up to watch his father’s killer calmly, matter of factly, cleaning the blood off his swords. The man paid him no attention to Friedrich then, which was odd in hindsight since they knew each other. The vor who lived in any dome were usually well acquainted, their children went to school together, the women sewed and gossiped together and the men drank and fought together. They formed their own inner society even within Komarran society.

Maximillian’s second and friend, Pasha had continued to stare down at the dead man and had made no move to rise and fulfill his obligations.

Nobody said anything.

Finally the killer fixed a pitying gaze upon Friedrich, one very similar to the gaze Simon had fixed him with last night. The sort you gave to a cripple, someone too weak and sickly to be given real tasks.

“Pasha, go take the boy home. My second and I will handle the body.”

Friedrich had thought then he ought to refuse this pity. He ought to have shouted something bravely and demanded his own duel. 

He ought to have said something.

He ought to have done something.

He let Pasha lead him off, numb and stumbling to his family’s darkened home. 

Perhaps it was cosmic justice that he should no longer be in possession of his father’s dueling swords. He didn’t deserve them.

 

A knock at Friedrich’s door interrupted his session of self-loathing.

“Come in,” he called.

One of the maid’s stuck her head in, “Friedrich dear, your cousin Ivan is here.”

Right. He was to go out and see the sites of Vorbarra Sultana with his older cousin who clearly had no interest in Friedrich. 

Friedrich rose from his position in front of his commconsole, pausing a vid he hadn’t been paying any attention to and stepped out into the hallway.

“This better not be as bad as when I had to take Mark out for an airing,” Ivan’s voice complained.

“Friedrich is not the needle grenade your cousin Mark is,” a dry voice, Illyan’s noted.

Was that an insult or a compliment, Friedrich wondered.

Friedrich attempted to be loud enough to let them know he was coming and yet subtle enough to not be too obvious about it.

“Ivan,” he said, giving his cousin a firm nod of greeting.

“Friedrich,” Ivan said, returning the nod. He was polite enough not to roll his eyes while doing this though Friedrich could hear the let’s get this over with attitude in Ivan’s voice.  
“Your lady mother requires that you return your cousin uninjured, sometime tonight,” Simon stated.

“Well I’m not Miles. I’m not going to take him out and start a ground war,” Ivan said with a snort, turning to leave. Friedrich followed after him. 

Friedrich assumed the Miles in question was the second cousin of Ivan on his father’s side but did not ask.

 

 

“Alright. Ma mere thinks you need a cultural tour of the city. So sit there, listen up and be prepared to tell ma mere all about it when you get back. I only want to do this once,”   
Ivan declared pulling out into traffic.

“The yield sign is merely a suggestion,” Ivan murmured to no one as his ground car jumped from an almost stationary speed to highway speed traffic.

Not that highway speed traffic was in any way appropriate for the actual traffic they were in.

“We could do that,” Friedrich acknowledged as Ivan zig-zagged past cars, nearly taking out a man on a motorbike.

“We could also go drinking and you could point out some of the highlights of Vorbarra Sultana on my datapad. Seems like a more efficient use of time, plus your mother gave me money for refreshments,” Friedrich suggested. It also seemed like a much more efficient use of their lives if they weren’t killed in traffic.

“Oh,” Ivan said.

Ten minutes later Friedrich was seated at a booth in a bar. The place was neither trendy nor shabby with a decent number of patrons though it was by no means crowded. Friedrich wondered if Ivan had picked the place because of the pretty waitresses. He could only guess that this was the reason Ivan had insisted on paying for their drinks. It likely also explained why it took Ivan so long to come back with their drinks.

Ivan did eventually return in a good mood and seated himself across from Friedrich who fired up his datapad.

Ivan flipped through several sites of historic interest and told Friedrich what he should have expected to see there had they actually trekked out to these places as well as the importance of them. 

“And that’s where Empress Magdalene, the wife of Emperor Justinius requested that the first library, which was opened to everyone, including the prole be placed. She had a hand in improving education standards for the poor and helping to abolish child labor, unofficially of course,” Ivan explained. 

“She was also rumored to have used that library as a rendezvous point with some of her lovers. Who knows which bookshelves she managed to christen,” a snarky voice added.

Friedrich turned to consider a slim man with a smile on his lips and a wicked look in his brown eyes.

“Byerly, I’m trying to give the kid a history lesson here that he can repeat to m’mother. You can’t tell him that stuff,” Ivan said in a voice of annoyance and exasperation.

“Ivan Vorpatril, captain in Imperial Ops, dutiful son and now tutor of children. Is there anything you can’t do,” Byerly inquired sweetly.

“Get lost Vorrutyer,” Ivan growled.

“But I’m merely trying to help. You’re lecture is rather dry. How is the boy supposed to repeat any of this to your lady mother if he’s so bored to tears he can’t pay attention,” Byerly asked.

Friedrich repeated the last five minutes of Ivan’s lecture, verbatim. 

They both stared at him.

Friedrich shrugged and took another swig of beer.

“How drunk would we have to get you before you couldn’t do that,” Byerly asked curiously.

“I am not returning him to m’mother drunk. She’d skin me for being a bad influence,” Ivan complained.

“I fail to see how this is your mother’s problem unless… well that is one problem with uterine replicators. Before them a woman would have to know how many children she’d had. Now with the replicators, who knows which maniac could steal your DNA and cook up a kid with it,” Byerly lamented.

Ivan fixed Byerly with a dirty look, “this is my cousin Friedrich, the son of ma mere’s sister. His father died recently so he’s come to live with my mother and Simon, so try not to be such an ass, eh?”

Byerly fixed Friedrich with an odd look, not quite sympathy or pity, something less fathomable.

“My condolences about your father,” Byerly said quietly, before adding, “provided his passing is worth being upset about.”

“Byerly,” Ivan shouted.

Several tables looked over at them.

Ivan turned back to Friedrich, “Byerly’s a Vorrutyer, the whole family is insane, just ignore him, and he’ll go away.”

Friedrich shrugged.

“Not much of a talker, is he,” Byerly noted looking back at Ivan.

“Well not when you make statements like that! And when did you sit down! Who told you that you could sit with us,” Ivan demanded.

“Ivan, you’re making a scene,” Bylerly chided.

Between their bickering no one noticed the large ImpSec officer stride up to the table and reach across Byerly to grab Ivan.

“Vorpatril,” the mountain spat.

“Hullo Sebastien,” Ivan managed as the mountain half pulled him out of his seat.

“I want to talk to you outside a minute,” Sebastien, the mountain declared.

“Well I’d love to, but I have to take my cousin home. Simon and my mother will be waiting for us,” Ivan name dropped shamelessly. 

Friedrich considered that only Sebastien, still in uniform, had a holstered stunner with him. It was not lethal to a healthy individual. Unless you stunned that person and then beat him to death. 

“What did you do this time Ivan,” Byerly inquired curiously. 

“He’s been screwing my wife these past few weeks and thought I wouldn’t find out,” the mountain declared.

“To be fair, I thought she might have mentioned things to you. When I found out she hadn’t I broke things off immediately. Well almost immediately,” Ivan tried to explain.

The mountain looked ready to break some things off of Ivan. Was Friedrich supposed to step in or let Ivan handle this?

He glanced at Byerly who was making no move to mix into things or alert anyone. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the manager of the bar declared.

“Sebastien, you don’t want your superiors hearing about you murdering a brother officer do you,” Byerly inquired.

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Ivan muttered back, the fingers of the mountains still clenched in his jacket and his body still half on the table.

“Sir, I will call the local guard if you do not vacate the premises immediately,” the manager bravely declared.

Reason seemed to seep into the mountain’s face.

Still he didn’t want to back down completely.

“If I so much as hear a whisper of you talking to my wife again, you’re not going to walk away so easily,“ the mountain stated.

He unclenched his fists, allowing Ivan to sink back into his seat.

After one final glare the mountain turned on his heel and left the way he came, shoving a pair of incoming men out of his way.

“For future reference perhaps you should only sleep with the wives of officers who could not crush your skull with their bare hands,” Byerly suggested.

“Well I didn’t mean for him to find out,” Ivan complained.

“So you didn’t really break things off with the woman after finding out he didn’t know,” Byerly asked in interest.

“Well, she stopped returning my commconsole calls after I said I wasn’t ready to elope with her. But basically it’s the same thing,” Ivan defended hotly. 

When Byerly’s turn to buy a round came up he found he had somewhere to be.

Ivan cautiously led Friedrich back to the groundcar.

“You know we’re reasonably safe. I mean the outer perimeter guard would have called the local guard if some menacing figure had been hanging out here waiting for us,” Ivan explained.

Friedrich punched Ivan in the arm.

“Hey!”

“Ivan you asshole, what are you doing messing around with someone’s wife like that,” Friedrich demanded.

“What’s the harm? With uterine replicators you can’t just cuckold anyone into raising your kid anymore, so what’s wrong with a little bit of fun,” Ivan asked rubbing his arm. He made no move to hit Friedrich back.

“What’s wrong is that some people take oaths like that seriously Ivan! Some people die for them,” Friedrich shouted.

Ivan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anymore.

The ride to Lady Alys’s apartment was silent.

 

 

Ivan dropped off the boy. Friedrich offered no more than a curt good night.

Whether Illyan had moved or not from his position on the couch since they’d left was anyone’s guess. But he was seated there as Ivan tried to sneak away.

“Did your cousin enjoy the tour,” Simon asked amiably, looking up from his reader.

“Well most of it,” Ivan said not willing to tell Illyan that the tour had consisted of a bar and a bakery.

“He seems tense,” Simon observed.

“He was tense before I got here,” Ivan declared. This, whatever this was, was not his fault. Ok, the kid’s family had obviously been really screwed up by adultery what with the first born son not being Maximillian’s, but that wasn’t Ivan’s fault. From what he’d heard Griselda and Maximilian had been together more out of misguided vorish duty than love, which probably hadn’t translated into a loving family home to raise a kid, but that also wasn’t Ivan’s fault. Just because that hulking giant Sebastien Vorsmythe had come along and probably reminded the kid of his former home life well that wasn’t Ivan’s fault either. Except Ivan didn’t think it was that, or just that which had set the kid off, so what was it?  
Simon made no comment.

Ivan turned to leave.

Ivan stopped.

Ivan turned back around, “out of… morbid curiosity, how did Maximilian die? I thought evidence pointed to getting jumped by some angry locals.”

“The story goes that Maximilian didn’t return from his office job where he worked as a clerk for a trading company one night. Supposedly his son went to his job and found that Maximilian wasn’t there. Barrayaran security found his body outside one of the domes a few days later. A plasma arc beam through the chest was ruled as cause of death,” Simon summarized dispassionately.

“But you don’t believe that,” Ivan said after a moment.

“I merely think it odd that the supposed Komarran terrorists would attack a Barrayaran with no ties to the military. Typically it’s officers in uniform who get found outside the domes. Not civilians. Typically it’s a head shot which is the cause of death, not a chest wound. But then the body was cremated after being discovered as was the family’s wishes and as any traditional vor family would want it. This means there’s no chance for a more thorough autopsy,” Simon noted, again in a maddeningly dispassionate voice as if they were discovering the weather.

“Oh,” Ivan said, turning to go.

“Why do you ask,” Simon inquired.

“I just- I might have said something insensitive to Friedrich. But I’m sure he’ll get over it,” Ivan said quickly. Then Ivan hesitated, “he’s not a bad kid, you know?”   
Dueling was the traditional vor way of dealing with insults ranging from name calling to cuckolding. It was also extremely illegal here with the punishment being death. 

Friedrich said he fenced. Friedrich’s psychopathic father had been reputed to be a hell of a fencer.

Friedrich had scars on the outside of his wrists, Ivan had seen them at the bar when the kid had rolled up his sleeves. They were the kind of defensive wounds you’d get from playing with knives, or swords.

Not that Ivan needed to do anything about it. He did not need to ask anyone about anything having to do with oaths and dueling and the question of how Maximilian had died. Nope, between Simon and Ivan’s mother the kid was in competent hands, Ivan decided as he headed down to his groundcar and home for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

“Alright grub, next up on our list is the drill field out behind campus, do you know what we do there,” Manfred asked jovially.

“Drills, sir,” Friedrich asked wondering if this was a trick question.

“Wrong,” another boy, Garth, shouted in his ear.

Manfred Vortiene was cadet lieutenant colonel in the Imperial cadets, and as such their adult instructor, the cadet battalion officer Goderic Vorthalia had assigned him to give Friedrich a brief overview of where everything was. 

Friedrich and Lady Alys had settled on a private school that catered to the vor, but it was not a military preparatory academy as such. This meant it had a wider curriculum that did not solely revolve around blowing things up, more student clubs and activities and female students.

But of course, after classes ended the place was much the same as a military academy with the imperial cadets appropriating multiple areas on school grounds for training purposes.

“That’s where we make our grubs do push-ups. Do you like pushups grub,” Manfred asked.

Friedrich was technically not a grub, the pejorative for a first year student since he’d participated in cadets on Komarr. He knew Manfred was just insulting him. He also knew that Manfred was bigger than him, stronger than him, and well established in the school, hence his rank. Not to mention that Manfred had brought his coterie consisting of cadet captain Garth Vorthala and Cadet Major Alyosha Vormuir. 

“I have no opinion on push ups, sir,” Friedrich said, smothering a sigh.

Friedrich knew that whatever answer he gave he was going to end up doing pushups. Manfred struck him as that sort of leader. Manfred also had a group of other boys to impress and Friedrich just wanted to do his time in the cadets and move on to the academy. 

Not to mention that their adult battalion officer was of the mind set that boys will be boys and that it was perfectly acceptable to savage your classmate as a means of toughening him up. 

“Glad to hear it up grub, what do you say to doing twenty pushups for me right now,” Manfred asked grinning to his friends. 

Manfred was a senior, he would graduate at the end of the year and fingers crossed Friedrich would never see him again. But Friedrich still sensed that this was going to be a long few months.

Unless he did something. 

You know he only treats you like shit because you let him. He wouldn’t do it if you weren’t such a wimp about it. 

Of course a brawl with Manfred meant a brawl with his friends as well. Friedrich expected them to jump in. A brawl with Manfred also meant three words against his one word on the abuse that led to the fight. It meant dealing with whatever his aunt and Simon would have to say about fighting in school and whatever the head master had to say. It might mean suspension from the cadets and a failure to get into the Imperial Military academy. 

“Yes sir,” Friedrich said getting down on the polished floor and started doing his twenty pushups.

“Can I do them too,” a girl’s voice asked.

A plump girl with long black hair and sun kissed skin that hinted at Escobaran descent inquired.

Alyosha groaned in annoyance, “get lost Marisol, we’ve told you before girls aren’t allowed in cadets.”

“and I’ve told you and your battalion commander that it’s a silly rule. Women have fought in wars for centuries. The combined Betan-Escobaran forces which allowed women to serve were able to defeat the all male Barrayaran forces during the failed invasion of Escobar,” Marisol pointed out primly.

“Yeah? So go join the combined Betan-Escobaran cadets then,” Garth tossed off.

“I would if I could but they don’t offer that here. In fact there a quite a few clubs that are male only which is extremely unfair,” Marisol stated.

“That’s because a woman’s place is in the home,” Manfred declared dismissively.

Marisol scowled at this, “that is such a pre-atomic attitude! Women are just as capable of doing things as men.”

“Yeah? You think you can do more pushup than the grub,” Manfred asked indicating Friedrich.

Friedrich sighed, already imagining where this was going.

“Well,” Marisol hesitated before admitting defeat, “women don’t have the same upper body strength as men.”

“So you lied. So women aren’t capable of doing the same things as men,” Manfred crowed triumphantly.

“Well I’m just as smart as any of you,” Marisol declared in irritation.

“Not smart enough to realize you’re not capable of doing a couple of pushups,” Manfred sneered.

“You’re not smart at all Marisol. You’re stupid,” Garth put in ingeniously.

“I am not stupid. I’ve been camping and boating and I can build a fire-“ Marisol tried to explain her qualifications.

“You’re so stupid and weird,” Alyosha loudly interrupted.

“Just accept that you can’t join and stop being such a bitch about it,” Garth insisted.

“Go on Grub, tell her she’s a stupid bitch,” Manfred egged Friedrich on.

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate language,” Friedrich muttered almost inaudibly.

“What,” Manfred asked.

Friedrich sighed, “my father told me not to talk to women like that.”

Friedrich’s father had also used precisely that language when yelling at his mother on multiple occasions. But now was not the time to discuss tears and broken dishes.

“Its fine, she’s not really a woman, she’s a fat little caterpillar,” Garth sneered.

“By that logic I’ll one day turn into a beautiful butterfly,” Marisol noted.

Garth frowned, he had obviously not thought the metaphor through.

“Grub, I gave you an order. Tell her she’s a bitch,” Manfred demanded. He didn’t even care about the argument over the metaphor, he was still fixated on Friedrich’s refusal.

Friedrich stared at the tiled floor, “Marisol you should go.”

No telling what Manfred would do, especially without an adult present and no one who would gainsay anything he said. 

She slipped.

I don't know how it happened

“Don’t tell her to leave, tell her she’s a bitch! A cunt! A stupid slut,” Manfred raged.

“Just tell her that she’s stupid,” Alyosha said with some sympathy for Friedrich.

Friedrich said nothing.

“Everyone else thinks she’s weird too. Everyone else had called her a bitch. Why are you so special,” Garth joined in demanding.

“Nobody is here to hear you and we won’t tell. It’s just our word against hers,” Alyosha added nervously.

The problem with bullies was that they were so used to getting their way. Friedrich was so used to giving in. 

He needed to leave before he said something he regretted.

A man stands up for himself and his beliefs.

Friedrich hadn’t been much of a man lately and he really wanted to change that. 

Friedrich had been kneeling on the ground up to this point, still prepared to do more push ups. He stood up.

He really should have moved away from Manfred first.

Because as soon as he got to his feet he ended up on the ground again. 

“Go on, get up again, I dare you,” Manfred said standing over him.

Friedrich reached up to touch his face, knowing he was going to have a black eye from this. He did not get up again.

“I said get up,” Manfred roared.

Friedrich stayed where he was.

“Fucking coward,” Manfred spat in disgust.

Friedrich said nothing.

“You and your dead father and your whole family are nothing but a bunch of fucking cowards,” Manfred declared.

He fixed Friedrich with a look of contempt before turning around to glare at Marisol, “and you are a stupid bitch.”

Manfred stormed off followed by Garth and Alyosha.

Friedrich waited until they passed back up the stairs and he heard a door slam before he stood up.

“I can’t believe Manfred hit you. We should report this,” Marisol declared angrily.

“No! We are not going to do anything. You need to go home. You need to realize that women don’t belong in the cadets. I don’t care how smart you are or how experienced you are or whatever, the reason you can’t join is because you’ll make our team weaker. You’ll make our team weaker because guys like Manfred are going to be hell bent on doing anything to get you drummed out and there might be some other guys who are going to be worried about your safety and will try to make things easier for you. You’re going to have the whole battalion thinking about you in one way or another and that’s going to be a huge drain on resources and attention. You’ll divide the unit when what we need is cohesion,” Friedrich explained.

“Well it’s not my fault you men have so much trouble treating women with respect,” Marisol stated upset that her potential ally wanted nothing to do with her.

“No but it’s certainly your fault I got punched in the face for protecting you,” Friedrich noted angrily.

“You weren’t protecting me. I don’t care what people call me. I care about equality,” Marisol declared.

Friedrich shook his head and headed slowly back upstairs to relocate the rest of the cadets.

 

Christos had raised an eyebrow upon seeing Friedrich’s black eye but he made no overt comment about, instead choosing to blandly ask how Friedrich’s day was.

“Fine.”

The drive back to Lady Ays’s apartment was short and neither of his guardians was home when he arrived. He managed to slip into his room where he found a package on his bed and a message blinking on his commconsole.

The package was from Abby, Hannah and Tarja, female friends of his from Komarr. Regardless of what Marisol seemed to think Friedrich got along well with girls. He liked girls. His father had liked that Friedrich had been good with women. At least until he’d found out that Friedrich wasn’t sleeping with any of the girls he befriended.

But that was neither here nor there now, Friedrich decided as he opened the box to find Komarran snacks, vids and a message from the girls.

This good mood was shattered when he checked the blinking commconsole message. It came from Pavel ‘Pasha’ Vorgosha.

Pasha’s face came on, a middle aged man with an almost bald head except for the side hairs which still clung on. His mouth was half hidden inside his well trimmed beard and he offered Friedrich, or the cam a weak smile. Friedrich knew that in real life the man was tall and whiplike, though he scrunched down in the vid.

“Friedrich, I hope things are well with your aunt and her – well I hope things are well. Your lady mother realized that she had forgotten to give you a few items before you left. No one can blame her for this of course, your father’s death hit her quite hard.” This was a lie. The woman had shed only crocodile tears at the funeral. 

“I am to visit Barrayar proper in a few weeks time to see to some business and so promised to drop the items off with you. I hope we can find time to meet,” Pasha declared with a soft smile.

A date a week from now flashed on the screen, the proposed time to meet.

Friedrich clicked in the affirmative that he planned to meet his father’s friend.

Friedrich sighed and rubbed his head.

What items had his mother decided he needed? Was she sending him the family albums? His father’s clothes?

Friedrich had a horrible vision of himself trying to literally fit into his father’s boots.

He shook his head and turned his attention to his homework. 

Dinner time came and with it a friendly maid who frowned at his eye and led him to the table where Lady Alys and Simon sat. 

They exchanged looks as Friedrich entered.

“Friedrich, dear, what happened to your eye,” Lady Alys inquired.

“I was roughhousing with one of the other cadets and we got a bit carried away,” Friedrich explained.

It was the same lie Manfred had told the battalion commander. The commander had nodded his understanding and waved it off, magnanimously promising that no one would get in trouble for the game. 

It didn’t benefit Friedrich to tell the truth anyway.

He knew Simon already didn’t trust him, that’s why he still held unto Maximilian’s swords in his office. Coming home and whining about problems at school would undoubtedly only lower the former chief of ImpSec’s view of him. 

Friedrich needed to be a man about this. 

His father had always told him to handle his own battles. If he relied on anyone else then he’d never stand on his feet.

Not that you’re doing a good job of that now, a voice, his father’s sneered.

Lady Alys sighed but asked no further questions on Friedrich’s face. She allowed Simon to lead her into a discussion of her day and the planning of an upcoming ball to introduce the new ambassadoress from Beta colony. 

It lulled Friedrich into a false sense of security.

“Did you get anything nice from your friends, Friedrich,” Lady Alys inquired.

Of course they’d seen the package, or at least heard of it, Friedrich thought.

“Yes. It was mostly candy and snacks from home on Komarr. Apparently they were worried I’d starve to death,” Friedrich acknowledged with a smile.

Lady Alys paused at this, as if almost taken aback and Friedrich panicked briefly wondering if he’d insulted his aunt.

“They were- it wasn’t. The food is very good here,” Friedrich babbled.

“No it’s,” Lady Alys paused and gave him a sad look, “I suppose between the stress of moving here, starting school and your father’s death, it simply struck me that I hadn’t seen you smile.”

Friedrich blinked at, he didn’t know what to say, “I’m sorry.”

Lady Alys sighed, but did not continue this vein of the conversation, “how thoughtful of them to send you something. It’s unfortunate that they don’t live closer. But I suppose if they wished and their parents allowed it, hm, I shall have to think on this more.”

Friedrich wasn’t sure whether to be excited or alarmed at the look on his aunt’s face.

“But you received more mail from your Komarran friends didn’t you,” Simon inquired benignly.

He must be checking my messages, Friedrich decided.

“My father’s” second “friend messaged to say my mother had forgotten to send some things along with me and that he wished to bring them since he was coming here for business,” Friedrich acknowledged.

“Ah, well I’m certain if you forward me the details I will be sure to have something set up for that day. He can come here to see you and we can all have dinner together,” Lady Alys suggested.

Friedrich blinked at this, “I-“ would think he’d rather be dead than at the other end of a table from Aral Vorkosigan’s dog.

While Pavel had been too low a rank in the military to be formally charged with treason when the Pretendership was lost to Vorkosigan’s troops that undoubtedly did not make the man any more pleased with Vorkosigan or his cadre.

“will ask him if that suits his tastes. I don’t want to make things more difficult for anyone,” Friedrich said.

“It would require very little effort from us and I’m sure the man would enjoy a home cooked meal after spending weeks in a jumpship,” Lady Alys insisted.

Friedrich didn’t know how to argue with that.

So the issue seemed settled.


	5. Chapter 5

A week passed. 

Friedrich limped over to one of the couches in the foyer after another adventure with the cadets. Manfred hadn’t bothered to single him out for further punishment as Friedrich had expected. Aside from making him go through some luke warm hazing which involved an unnecessary number of pushups and wind sprints Manfred paid him little attention. Mostly. Friedrich admitted to himself that he wasn’t entirely sure how much of the horse’s startlement and Friedrich’s subsequently being flung through the air was due to his own inexperience on horses and how much had been due to Manfred being an ass.

It was a combination of things he decided easing himself back into the couch and slowly, painfully raising his foot up.

A maid was kind enough to bring Friedrich some ointment for the pain and inflammation.

“More roughhousing,” Simon asked upon entering the room.

Friedrich continued applying ointment. If the question had been from his father Friedrich would have known he was being mocked. But from Illyan, well from Illyan maybe he was being mocked as well.

Get back there and fight that boy. 

Come back with your honor or don’t come back.

“Just a mishap with a horse sir. I’m afraid I haven’t had any practice with them on Komarr,” Friedrich acknowledged.

Simon looked him over, “was your battalion commander unaware of your inexperience?”

“He attempted to find me a tractable horse,” Friedrich admitted.

He couldn’t even stay on a damned beginner pony. Granted it was not a war horse, accustomed to loud noises and certainly everyone was surprised by the stunner pack going off. Most had not still been on horseback though.

Simon was silent a moment.

“Is the fellow that much bigger than you,” Simon asked point blank.

Not as big as my father.

Where had that thought come from?

“It isn’t his size –“ Friedrich admitted slowly, “I have to deal with him myself. Please don’t do anything about it.”

Simon was silent a moment, Friedrich wondered if the older man was deciding whether to offer further comment, or perhaps some instruction on a vicious and highly effective ImpSec attack move. But Simon shook his head, “your lady aunt took an oath to look after you while you live under her roof. I may not do anything but I assure you that should these incidents continue I cannot guarantee that she won’t take action.” 

“I see. Thank you sir,” Friedrich said and finished applying the ointment to his ankle.

Friedrich managed to limp to his room and tried to get himself together for dinner with Pasha tonight, though he dreaded seeing the man. It was not a dislike for Pasha himself of course, but more a reminder of all the things Friedrich had failed to do. 

It led him to meditate on his mother’s wisdom of throwing him out of the house after his father’s death. Perhaps Friedrich reminded her too much of his father. Perhaps she wanted a fresh start, or something as fresh as possible all things considered.

A maid came to inform him that Pasha arrived, he glanced at the chrono and realize he must have lost track of time.

Friedrich walked out to find only Lady Alys seated on a couch, reader in hand as if still waiting for their guest.

She looked up into Friedrich’s questioning face and offered an apologetic smile.

“I’m afraid Simon was impatient to show your friend something. He promised to keep their discussion brief, and polite. Why are you limping dear,” Lady Alys asked.

“I fell off a horse,” Friedrich said. Much better than saying he was thrown off a horse which might alarm her unduly.

Lady Alys sighed, “Does your battalion commander understand that they do not have horses on Komarr and thus you have had no experience riding them?”

“I informed him,” Friedrich said.

Lady Alys sat back further in her seat and studied him, “I have met my share of well-meaning albeit foolish instructors within these cadets who somehow think that intentionally placing a boy in harms way will teach him something. They frequently fail to consider that a dead child is incapable of learning from his experience. I have also had the occasion to meet instructors who do not even have the excuse of trying to better a child by placing him in the path of injury. Rather this instructor has been offended by the actions of adults and, lacking the power or even courage to interact with these adults, takes his anger out on the child. Now, what sort of man is your battalion commander.”

Friedrich blinked at this, so she thought it was the adult supervisor who was out to make his life miserable? Some back story involving Ivan seemed to lay behind the sudden ferocity in her eyes.

My mother never looked like that.

“He is of the former variety, Ma’am. Only interested in my improving education. I – the horse was very well behaved, at least until the end,” Friedrich explained.

He had a sudden vision of his aunt screaming at the battalion commander in front of the other cadets. He’d never live that down.

“I’m handling the situation,” Friedrich said quickly.

Lady Alys gave him a particularly unfathomable look, “Friedrich –“

But whatever advice or admission she was about to make was cut off by the sound of male shouting.

“You maniacal prole!”

Pasha came into view briefly and though he glanced at Lady Alys and Friedrich he did not seem to recognize them as he headed for the door.

Friedrich blinked, his mind slow to comprehend what was happening.

Illyan appeared as well, looking utterly calm, and even curious as he watched Pasha’s retreat.

“Simon,” Lady Alys said giving Illyan a stern look which only slightly quelled the amusement that danced across Simon’s eyes. 

Friedrich watched Pasha’s retreating back and suddenly realized the man intended to leave and not return. 

“Pasha, wait,” Friedrich called racing after his father’s friend.

Well, he raced as quickly as he could, which was more of a fast walk, something he accomplished undoubtedly thanks to the pain meds and anti-inflammatory ointment he’d applied.

He caught up to Pasha as the older man was hailing an autocab.

“Pasha, I-“ Friedrich began as the older man turned on him.

“What have you done,” Pasha demanded, a mix of anger and distrust written on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Friedrich said.

An autocab arrived and Pasha pulled Friedrich in before continuing the conversation.

“Your father’s swords were in the study of your aunt’s lover, why were they there,” Pasha demanded.

Friedrich opened his mouth, closed it, and felt the rush of shame slam into him just as it had the first night when he’d realized Simon had so casually taken them from him.  
“Simon confiscated them, he said he didn’t want me getting into trouble,” Friedrich admitted quietly under Pasha’s heated stare.

“You call Aral’s dog by his first name now? What the devil has happened to you boy,” Pasha demanded.

Simon’s really not so bad, Friedrich almost said. He caught himself and merely hung his head in shame, unable to justify his actions.

“I’m sorry,” Friedrich said after a long silence.

Pasha’s anger dissipated with a sigh, though the disappointment lingered on in his gaze.

“You know boys younger than you have died in wars for their beliefs,” Pasha said after a moment. It was more of an aside, a comment on how the ideal world ought to be rather than a continuation of his rage. 

Is that what you want of me? To just die, Friedrich wondered.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sure my father would be disappointed,” Friedrich admitted.

Not that this disappointment would have been any different no matter what Friedrich had done, he admitted to himself.

“It can’t be helped now,” Pasha said rubbing his face. He looked suddenly exhausted and… scared?

“Was that what you were talking about? My father’s swords,” Friedrich asked.

Pahsa rubbed his face, “among other things. Actually the infamous Simon Illyan asked me if you’d killed your father. He said he’d looked at the forensic images of your father’s body before it was cremated and insisted that the plasma arc which had been used to create the hole in Maximilian’s chest had to be an old Barrayaran military issued weapon. His scenario involved you losing control and stabbing your father, repeatedly. To hide the evidence you’d gone door to door until you found a sympathetic vor with a weapon he’d concealed from the days of Vordarian and which you’d used to hide the real evidence.”

“What, well what did you tell him” Friedrich demanded in horror.

Friedrich had hated his father. But he hadn’t wanted the man dead.

Pasha shrugged, “only the truth. That he was kidnapped by Komarrans and murdered.”

Pasha said this with full knowledge that the autocab they sat in was monitored for audio and video.

When they disembarked from the autocab Pasha seemed to have some idea where he was but Friedrich did not.

“Did you leave my things in my aunt’s apartment,” Friedrich asked noting Pasha’s empty hands.

Pasha looked over at Friedrich, only after a moment did he seem to understand the question, “I never brought your belongings with me. Truthfully I didn’t think you could be serious about me sitting down to dinner with Aral’s dog. But follow me to my hotel room and I can hand them off to you.”

Pasha led the way, or a way to his hotel. It involved a great deal of doubling back and walking in a most circuituitous route. It reminded Fredrich eerily of the same way his father had led them to the dueling grounds his last night. Different only in that there was no dome here to enclose them, there was nothing holding them in or down or back.   
There was also no one talking. Pasha had never been a great conversationalist and Friedrich didn’t know what to say. Clearly the man had bigger things on his mind than Friedrich’s schooling or classmate troubles.

Finally they reached a hotel, only to pass it and continue onwards to a run down café. They sat and Pasha ordered a beverage but no food. Friedrich followed suit.  
Pasha glanced about the place which was quiet, with a handful of customers and a manager who was more interested in the game on the vid than on his customers.  
“Friedrich, what I have to give you is not an actual item. It’s the truth. I believe your father was murdered,” Pasha declared.

Friedrich stared at Pasha and wondered if the man had gone mad.

“Didn’t you notice that your father was not himself the night of the duel,” Pasha insisted.

Friedrich hardly knew what to say, Maximilian had been angry, that was not unusual, impatient, that was not unusual, and vocal about his thirst for blood. He’d ranted about how his wife had stolen his honor by letting another man into her bed, again. He’d ranted about trying to cuckold him a second time. He’d thrown things, he’d yelled, then he’d put on his overcoat, his bag which contained his blades and had taken Friedrich with him to the bar where they’d met Pasha.

“He wasn’t drunk,” Friedrich said, his father had only had two beers. This was far below his record.

“Drunk on alcohol, no. But I have reason to believe he was drugged, that he ought to have won that duel,” Pasha insisted.

“Pasha, I – how could you come to this conclusion now,” Friedrich asked puzzled.

The body had not simply been buried, in which case it could have been exhumed and tested. It had been burned. There were no veins to pierce in a quest for locating possible contaminants in the blood.

Pasha however was focused on a man sitting, facing them but with a reader in hand. He looked to be in his late eighties with a paunch and liver spots.

“We have to go, they might be listening,” Pasha said, paying the bill and leading Friedrich away. 

Friedrich winced as he stood up, the pain radiating from his abused ankle but he offered no audible complaint as Pasha led them walking through a nearby park.  
“Do you ever wonder where your father went most nights,” Pasha inquired.

To visit one of his mistresses? Maximillian had been adamant that his wife have no outside lovers, but he had not held himself to the same standards. Because of course, men and women were different and what was acceptable for a vor male was surely not acceptable for a vor female and vice versa. 

Friedrich shook his head as much at that thought as in response to Pasha’s question.

Pasha looked annoyed at Friedrich’s stupidity but continued in a conspiratorial tone, “I have reason to believe that he came across some highly sensitive information during his work as a clerk which led him to investigate a certain matter further. I think he was murdered for what he was investigating.” 

Friedrich stared incredulously, “well then we should tell someone, someone in Imperial Secrutiy or Ops or-“

Pasha slapped Friedrich, not hard, but enough to stop him from babbling further.

“Think boy, and what do we tell them? That your father was murdered in a duel? That you and I have both lied repeatedly to authorities about your father’s death and our own activities. I have a small group of men here who will help me solve this… but I may need your help as well,” Pasha admitted.

So that’s why I’ve been contacted, Friedrich thought.

Not to be given something, but to be asked to give something.

“I… will try my best to help,” Freidrich said uncertainly.

Pasha frowned, “you are not to discuss this matter with anyone, especially not your aunt’s lover Simon Illyan, do you understand? Your word as Vordela.”

Friedrich felt backed into a corner at this but acquiesced under the man’s firm gaze, “my word as Vordela, I’ll hold this conversation in confidence.”

Pasha nodded.

“I may contact you sometime this week or the next as we uncover the truth. Please make yourself available,” Pasha stated.

They parted ways shortly after this with Pasha heading off to an unknown destination, possibly his hotel, possibly another semi-secret rendezvous. 

Friedrich realized as he tried to call an autocab that he had forgotten his wristcomm back at his aunt’s apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

Friedrich’s attempt to make his way to the metro and back to his aunt’s apartment was met only with failure. He paused at an intersection and acknowledged that he’d already been here.

Worse, the men behind him had also already been there.

They’re following me, Friedrich thought uneasily.

There were three in all, not particularly tall or muscular. But then they didn’t need to be, Friedrich decided considering the pain that surged in his ankle. He wasn’t in much shape for a fight. They were also eerily quiet. 

Worse, Friedrich passed a closed bodega and noted that the shops along the way were similarly darkened.

He continued on a few more blocks, the men trailed him slowly and quietly. But even as Friedrich made more random turns he found they were still behind him, patiently waiting for he knew not what.

Friedrich rubbed his face and considered what this all meant. Were they just gang members looking for an easy mark to mug? Were they Sebastian’s friends or were they sent by some enemy of Simon Illyan to send a message? 

Friedrich made a show of glancing up at a sign as he passed by. He was trying to get a better look at them.

One had a bulge in his jacket pocket, perhaps it was nothing, or perhaps it was a stunner. Perhaps it was a plasma arc and they were going to murder him once he unwittingly led them to a good, quiet place to make the kill.

Well if you can’t outrun them, what can you do?

Fight them.

Of course if he turned around to fight them he doubted they’d honorably attack him one on one. No, they’d just jump him. In the best scenario they’d only rough him up a bit and take his credit chit. In the worst… well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about avenging his father.

They would surely come out the victors of any fight.  
But I could make you work for it, he thought a mixture of savageness and hopelessness creeping into his mind.

He couldn’t help feeling like a wounded animal about to be set upon by a pack of hungry predators. That’s because that’s exactly what’s happening, idiot.

You have no one to blame for this predicament but yourself.

I wish they’d hurry up and get it over with already, Friedrich thought as he balled his fists. His father used to enjoy talking about the French Foreign Legion, a military force on old earth. They were unusual in that they celebrated their defeats instead of their victories.

I’ll have a lot to celebrate, Friedrich thought.

His attention was turned away from these macabre thoughts when someone nearly ran him over. 

“What the hell are you doing,” an irate male demanded.

It was Ivan, leaning out of his car and looking a mixture of harassed, confused, and hungry.

The weight of the world dropped off of Friedrich’s shoulders and he burst into laughter.

“What’s so damn funny? You know I hadn’t been off of work 15 minutes when ma mere called me to go find you. Get in the car dammit,” Ivan said only looking more annoyed at Friedrich’s outburst. 

Friedrich spared one glance behind him to see the men who’d been following him peel off, possibly looking for new quarry. 

Perhaps they didn’t mind jumping a limping boy, but attacking a limping boy and an imperial officer, was too much for them.

Friedrich climbed into the passenger’s side of the car and buckled himself in as Ivan drove them back into traffic. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing running off without a wristcomm,” Ivan demanded.

He also muttered a few things under his breath about his mother, teenagers and the slow driver in front of him.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Friedrich admitted.

“You weren’t thinking,” Ivan declared.

“Ivan, I just said that,” Friedrich noted.

“I know,” Ivan declared, then muttered, “I… didn’t expect you to admit that… habit and all.”

Friedrich rested his head on the head rest and closed his eyes.

“Well, and why were you off running around with this guy at night? I thought you were all set up to have dinner. Ma mere was very upset about your friend’s behavior,” Ivan stated sourly.

Friedrich suspected Ivan was only sour because Lady Alys had given Ivan an earful about it. Ivan undoubtedly could not care less about Pasha’s behavior so long as it didn’t affect Ivan.

“Pasha was probably upset at Simon’s wild accusations. Did you know that Simon accused me of murdering my father,” Fredrich asked in disgust.

Ivan was silent, he spared Friedrich a glance before asking, “did you?”

“No! What the hell is wrong with you people!”

“Well… you know Simon, he just… he gets bored and has to find ways to fill in the time. It’s what old people do,” Ivan insisted.

“Old people play bridge! Old people tell stories about their youth and play with their grandchildren! Old people do not accuse others of murdering their family members and then try to get a confession out of their friends,” Friedrich shouted.

“Well they do if they used to be the chief of ImpSec. Besides, it was probably just a joke of some kind. If Simon really thought you’d killed somebody…well, all things considered,” Ivan glanced at Friedrich again but did not continue to discuss his inner monologue.

Friedrich glared at Ivan.

“Well don’t get mad at me! I had nothing to do with Simon and his esoteric ideas of amusement,” Ivan huffed.

Friedrich blew out a breath, “I know. Thank you for coming to pick me up.”

Thank you for making sure I didn’t get beaten up or murdered by some muggers would have been an appropriate thing to say too, Friedrich admitted internally.

Ivan seemed confused by this gratitude, and the car was silent for several minutes.

“You know I haven’t eaten anything. Are you hungry too,” Ivan asked.

“There’s an American restaurant that serves fried chicken and donuts nearby and it’s still open,” Friedrich observed, playing with the car’s mapping system. 

 

“How do you stay so skinny when you eat like that,” Ivan asked watching with a mixture of admiration and disgust.

Friedrich shrugged, “It’s all that cadet training I guess.”

“Is that how you hurt your ankle,” Ivan asked.

“Sort of. I fell off a horse,” Friedrich admitted.

Ivan, whether he accepted the comment at face value or suspected otherwise, did not ask Friedrich more about it.

Though his attention was likely caught up by the reappearance of their buxom waitress.

“Do you boys need anything else? Is your leg feeling better now that you’ve had a chance to put it up sweetheart,” she asked giving Friedrich a dimpled smile.

“Yes, it’s much better thank you,” Friedrich said. Actually it still hurt like hell, but he figured he wasn’t supposed to admit that in public. 

Don’t show weakness.

“He is just so brave,” the waitress confided to Ivan.

“I fell off a horse,” Friedrich said in confusion. He had some idea of where this woman was going with this but he didn’t understand why nor did he want to continue this.

Ivan shot him a dirty look before smiling up at the waitress, “he’s new to horse-back riding. But he’s very determined.”

“Well, my great-grandfather used to help raise horses for Count Vorparadjis. In fact my grandfather and my father still help with the horses there. If you need lessons, maybe I could take you out there sometime,” she suggested.

Friedrich tried to smile back, or perhaps he grimaced, “thank you for the offer.”

She left her comm number with them.

Friedrich wondered if he’d have to cross this place of his list of restaurants he could visit.

Ivan looked ready to throttle him.

“She’s not my type,” Friedrich said looking down at his plate.

Ivan let out a breath and looked… thoughtful. It was an unsettling look on Ivan. Not so bad as when that look came over Lady Alys or Simon, but certainly bad.


	7. Chapter 7

They were back in the car, heading towards Lady Alys’s apartments when Ivan spoke up again.

“You know m’mother would probably jump at the chance to set you up with a nice boy,” Ivan offered hesitantly.

Friedrich sighed, “is that what we’re going to do now, Ivan? Do you want to get out here and fist fight or should we wait until we get back to the apartment?”

“I’m just saying, she’s not going to throw you out or anything,” Ivan said.

Ivan seemed uncomfortable. This was fine because Friedrich was uncomfortable too.

“I don’t think I could beat you, but I think I could make you sorry for starting this,” Friedrich said eyeing his cousin.

Ivan frowned, “I am trying to be – I don’t know what I’m trying to be. But, well it’s a biological thing, ok? My aunt Cordelia made me watch some vids on it when I was younger. So… so don’t feel bad about it or whatever.”

Ivan drove silently; well he was quiet, the car and other cars around him and ostensibly in his way made noises.

“And don’t wander away with some guy you meet at a club or bar or anything,” Ivan instructed.

Apparently Ivan was thinking about those news stories about groups who lured out homosexuals and then beat them to death. 

The stories weren’t new, the outrage over them was.

“And if you’re having problems with anyone you can tell m’mother or Simon. Or you can tell me and I’ll tell my mother,” Ivan added.

“For god’s sakes, I’m not a girl Ivan! I can handle it,” Friedrich shouted.

Ivan pouted over this, “I’m trying to be helpful.”

“Ivan, I don’t want to talk about it ok? Just leave it alone,” Friedrich half demanded, half pleaded.

Ivan did not offer further advice.

 

Friedrich supposed that if he had been drinking he might have gotten away with hunting Simon down and screaming, “I didn’t murder my father you asshole.”

Friedrich hadn’t had any alcohol and so he felt he could not use that as an excuse. 

As it was Lady Alys was the only one up and seated on a couch, watching a ballet as they came in.

“Brought the rugrat back. He’s fine, I better get home. Work tomorrow, early,” Ivan said leaving as soon as he came in.

Lady Alys did not bother to call him back or chase him down, perhaps because she fixed her gaze immediately on Friedrich.

She looked disappointed.

Friedrich immediately began to apologize, “I’m sorry –“

Lady Alys stood up, walked over, and hugged him, an act Friedrich only belatedly managed to acknowledge by wrapping his own arms around her.

She let go and looked him over, “Ivan didn’t even get you any pain medicine did he?”

She looked up at the ceiling in a heaven help me gesture then looked back at Friedrich, “Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll send a maid up with some pain medicine and more ointment for your ankle.”

Friedrich simply nodded.


	8. Chapter 8

Friedrich did receive another call from Pasha who invited him out to dinner several days later.

Lady Alys did not insist that they eat in her home again and allowed Friedrich out under the condition that he bring his wristcomm and call Christos when he had finished.  
When Friedrich arrived at the designated restaurant, an upscale establishment, he was surprised to see Pasha with another compatriot. A medium sized man with brown hair, in his mid-thirties.

“My friend, Mikhail Vortemy,” Pasha explained.

Mikhail had a firm handshake and Friedrich had the impression that the man worked out. Not that this was unusual for body conscious Barrayar. 

Mikhail was very interested in Friedrich and asked him multiple questions about his schooling, his father and his time in the cadets. Surprisingly he seemed to have only a cursory interest in Friedrich’s relationship to Simon Illyan. More surprisingly Friedrich felt comfortable talking to this man. There was something terribly magnetic about him where Friedrich felt he could say anything.

They did not further discuss Pasha’s conspiracy theory or make any mention of Friedrich’s father’s death. Friedrich was becoming more and more convinced that the whole conversation had been entirely hallucinated on his part.

At least until the end of the evening when Pasha turned to Mikhail and murmured, “he’s perfect, isn’t he?”

Friedrich couldn’t help but think that was something you said about a roast. Has it been cooked long enough dear? Oh it’s just perfect honey, I’d better take it out now so it doesn’t dry out.

Mikhail smiled at Friedrich and offered him a wink, “he’s just right.”

When they stood up to go Mikhail shook his hand again, “I look forward to seeing you again Friedrich.”

The touch of the other man’s hand left Friedrich feeling very warm and he stood there even after they left, trying to collect his thoughts.

Friedrich finally moved to the entrance to call Christos when someone bumped into him. Correction, someone grabbed him.

Friedrich glanced over to see Byerly Vorrutyer hauling him out of the restaurant.

“So nice to see you again Friedrich. Are you waiting for your driver? Here why don’t I save you the trouble and take you home,” Byerly loudly explained, more for the bystanders than for Friedrich.

Byerly casually manhandled Friedrich into his lightflyer before climbing into the other side.

“For future reference you’re supposed to scream when a strange man shoves you into his vehicle,” Byerly explained with barely suppressed mirth.

Was that mirth or mania, Friedrich wondered.

Byerly leaned over and stared searchingly into his eyes.

“My, my you certainly had a whopper of a dose,” Byerly breathed before sitting back and turning on the engine.

What the hell was Vorrutyer talking about?

What could have been administered to him?

“Fast Penta isn’t something that can be orally administered,” Friedrich said, shaking his head. He tried to remember the symptoms of fast penta. 

“No. It would be illegal for a civilian to administer that and your friends aren’t so stupid as to use that in the middle of a crowded restaurant especially since they know who you’re related to. The smaller brown haired fellow, I suspect he must have dunked himself in eutocin,” Byerly said, partly to Friedrich, partly to himself.

“What,” Friedrich asked.

“It’s a manufactured derivative of oxytocin, the cuddle hormone if you’re feeling romantic, the fucking hormone if you’re just there for some fun. It’s used as an aphrodisiac but its other functions include making people more trusting, more generous and decreases cognitive abilities. You don’t think about what you’re saying to your new friends but you really enjoy talking to them,” Byerly explained.

Then smirked and added, ”Some side effects include increased urination and lactation. Be on the look out for that.”

“Is nausea another symptom,” Friedrich asked suddenly feeling nauseous.

Byerly frowned. Apparently it was.

“If you get sick on my upholstery you’re walking home.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, vomit might improve the inside of this vehicle. How did you buy something so tacky,” Friedrich asked.

It was not tacky, Friedrich just thought he ought to say something to shut the man up.

Byerly looked vaguely amused but quickly returned to his original discussion, “what did you and your new special friends discuss? Were they very interested in Simon Illyan?”

Friedrich shrugged, “No, not especially.”

Byerly snorted, “the trick with getting information from a mark is to do it slowly. Ask a question, change the subject, then come back from a different angle. What did you tell them about Simon? Or was it Lady Alys they were interested in?”

Where had the town clown heard that? Had he been watching spy vids?

“Neither of them were very interested in Simon or Lady Alys and what do you mean when talking about a mark,” Friedrich asked.

“It’s above your paygrade boy,” Byerly said.

“Nobody pays me anything,” Friedrich said in confusion. Actually, Lady Alys did give him an allowance come to think of it.

“Then it’s definitely above your paygrade,” Byerly said with a smirk. 

“I have to wonder if you’re on drugs because this conversation doesn’t make sense,” Friedrich said.

“Of course it does. Now show me that parlor trick you did the last time I saw you and rehearse the conversation you had earlier for me,” Byerly insisted.

“Why should I,” Frieidrich demanded. Actually, as Friedrich tried to think of it, he realized he couldn’t even if he wanted to. His memory seemed foggy.

“Because I’m trying to help you dumbass,” Byerly said.

“I don’t need any help,” Friedrich said. But he was beginning to think he did. He just didn't know how to ask for it or what he needed help with precisely.

“You certainly haven’t been getting any from those two. They knew you when you’re father was still alive didn’t they,” Byerly asked.

“Pasha did anyway,” Friedrich admitted slowly.

“Yeah? He ever do anything when your father used to beat you,” Byerly asked.

Friedrich swallowed hard but said nothing.

Byerly shook his head in disgust and focused on his driving. Despite his reputation for being a drunken town clown he was a surprisingly careful driver.

“My advice to you, go find Simon, sit down with him, tell him everything that happened and ask him to help you, nicely. Stay out of trouble little boy,” Byerly advised as he touched down in front of Lady Alys’s apartment.

Friedrich stepped out of the vehicle and brushed himself off, suddenly feeling dirty.

He did not immediately go find Illyan, nor did he tell anyone what had happened in the restaurant. If Lady Alys or Simon were expecting a verbal report they did nothing to inform him of this expectation. 

Friedrich did wonder vaguely and uneasily if he was wrong for not saying anything. Still, how could he explain part of it without explaining all of it? Surely he couldn’t discuss the duel. It was one thing to turn himself in, it was another to turn Pasha in.

Don’t lie. You’re afraid of what they’ll think of you. 

You’re still such a coward, he thought to himself in disgust, laying awake again.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a sleepy day midweek when the cadets gathered downstairs in their meeting room. They were supposed to be going through a history lesson, led by one of the student leaders, but everyone knew that just meant goofing off until it was time to go home. 

Boys were playing games on their commpads or roughhousing on the practice mats.

The instructor’s desk had been moved out of the way so some boys could set up the holo-vid display and watch a vid.

Things were moving along tolerably.

At least until Marisol decided to reintroduce herself into the fray.

Friedrich noticed her before Manfred did and tried to signal for her to leave. He didn’t trust Manfred when there wasn’t a superior around.

Marisol ignored him and headed for Manfred.

“Cadet lieutenant colonel, I’ve read through the cadet rule book and am ready to complete any and all tests necessary to enter the cadets. I can do the required number of pushups, sit ups and I can run a mile in the necessary time,” Marisol declared proudly.

To be fair she did seem to have put on some muscle in… was it really only three weeks?

Manfred did not seem annoyed by this, he looked downright gleeful. 

“Cadets, assemble,” he called out.

Boys glanced up from their games at this.

“I said assemble,” Manfred called again, his voice a shade more brittle, his smile a shade more vicious.

Everyone fell into rank, at attention.

“At ease cadets,” Manfred called.

The cadets obeyed.

Friedrich wondered if he ought to tell Marisol to run. Really how could the girl not recognize that something very bad was about to happen?

She still stood there, chin up, defiant as if she thought she could handle whatever obstacle would get in her way.

“Cadets, what we have here is a woman who doesn’t know her place,” Manfred explained with false good cheer.

“I am perfectly aware,” Marisol began.

“Shut up,” Manfred roared with sudden ferocity.

Marisol stepped back.

“What we have is a woman who thinks she can join the cadets. She says she can pass all of our tests. Well, if that’s true you’d better strip for us,” Manfred declared.

Marisol blinked, “that’s not in the rules.”

“Every cadet gets a medical exam before he’s allowed to join. So take off your clothes so we can give you a medical exam,” Manfred insisted.

“Take it off,” Garth shouted enthusiastically.

A few others joined in the chant.

Marisol for the first time seemed aware that she had made a bad mistake.

“This isn’t appropriate Manfred. I’m reporting this,” she said, turning to go.

Manfred caught her arms and twisted her around, shoving her away from the exit.

“Go on, you’ve been on my ass since school started about how you were just as good as any of us. You said you could do what we do. You said you deserved to be here. So show us. Go on, take your clothes off,” Manfred said.

The room seemed to take on an air of eerie good cheer as some boys joined in hurling insults and cracking jokes about the situation. Others grew quiet and withdrew back, uncomfortable but uncertain or unwilling to do anything. 

Marisol seemed on the verge of tears and someone, somewhere should be stepping in, Friedrich thought.

Friedrich moved over to the back wall near where cadets had haphazardly thrown their school bags. There on the wall was an antique dart board. It had sharpened darts. Friedrich quietly pulled one down from the board as the harassment continued.

It was one thing to fight a man you knew would be honorable. Friedrich knew he ought to refuse to do anything underhanded if it meant winning such a bout. But Friedrich knew that when it came down to it, Manfred wasn’t going to fight fair. So neither was he.

Don’t start a fight you’re not prepared to finish, his father had told him.

You start something you commit to it, no mercy, no backing down and you have to face those consequences. 

Fine, right, there went his chances in the cadets. 

But Manfred shouldn’t be touching her like that, Friedrich decided.

He pushed his way to the front of the group.

"Come on Manfred, shouldn’t we be getting back to training,” Friedrich asked loudly, feigning bored impatience with this scene.

 

Manfred turned to look at Friedrich, then seemed to decide that the smaller boy wasn't a threat. 

“We have to initiate the new cadet first,” Manfred said.

“Do you know how much trouble we’ll be in if an instructor catches us with a naked girl in here? You want to ruin everyone’s chances for getting into the academy because you’re randy,” Friedrich demanded.

He glanced at the group of cadets, the ones who had been cheering quieted. They were thinking about the consequences now too.

Manfred raised an eyebrow, “Well whose going to find out? We don’t have an adult supervisor in here today. It’s good old fashion peer tutoring. I can teach you plenty,” Manfred promised Marisol.

A few in the group snickered at that comment. 

“I don’t remember you getting naked with any of the guys. Did I miss that,” Friedrich asked.

Manfred finally straightened up. He had obviously thought Friedrich was on his side, or at least under his thumb. But that Friedrich was calling Manfred a homosexual in front of the group was a clear threat to Manfred's authority.

“Why? You want that, do you grub? You interested in me like that,” Manfred asked.

“I think you shouldn’t treat a woman the way you are right now,” Friedrich stated.

Friedrich knew what was coming, he just wasn’t sure who would join in. Adrenaline was pumping furiously in his blood. He thought he must be shaking.

Manfred walked over to him, “well I’m highest ranked cadet here so I’m in charge right now and I decide how to treat women, got it?”

Manfred deliberately put his face and body right up in front of Friedrich, towering over him by half a head. 

“Bet you wouldn’t let someone talk to your mother like the way you’re talking to Marisol now,” Friedrich noted.

“You don’t need to worry about how I treat my mother. Now you can get back in line like a good dog or I can put you back in line properly. What do you want?”

Friedrich held the dart tightly, pressed up and in his sleeve where it was well hidden.

“I want you to leave her alone.”

Manfred glanced at his main coterie and shrugged before turning back to Friedrich and taking a swing. Friedrich brought the dart up, jabbing it into Manfred’s fist. Manfred screamed and jerked back. Friedrich kicked him in the nuts, dropping the larger boy to the ground. Friedrich didn’t ponder the niceties of combat as he kicked Manfred in the ribs.

Garth let out a battle cry and tried to mix into the fight. Except Garth made the mistake of attempting to draw back even as he’d already commited to throwing a punch. Friedrich suspected the other boy was afraid that Friedrich had more darts available for this fight. 

Sometimes the fear of pain was enough to get people to do what you wanted, Friedrich decided.

He caught Garth’s arm, and as the other boy was still unbalanced, Friedrich managed to throw him to the ground. Friedrich did not pull back and ease up his throw as he would have done with a real sparring partner. Nor was Friedrich careful with his opponents head as he would have been with a practice opponent.

Alyosha tried to just tackle Friedrich to the ground where his larger weight would give him the advantage. But Friedrich sidestepped and caught the boy in the face with a globe of Barrayar which had initially been situated on the absent instructor’s desk.

Alyosha tried to get up and Friedrich hit him again, harder. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused Friedrich to swing the globe around to catch Garth in the face.   
Manfred was rising to his feet when Friedrich slammed a boot into chest. 

You want a fight, I’ll show you a goddamn war, Friedrich thought fiercely.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”

The voice was a roar and all the boys turned to stare. Apparently everyone had not been frozen in place during the brawl. Cadet Lieutenant Vorvayne stood next to the assistant headmaster of the school, Dmitri Vortugalov. He must have slipped out at some point and warned Vortugalov, Friedrich decided.

Friedrich put the dented globe back on the instructor’s desk. He tried to anyway, but Friedrich was shaking so hard he managed to drop it. The globe, whose North Continent might never recover, made a clanging sound as it hit the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you think you’re getting sick,” Marisol whispered to Friedrich, “you’ve been shaking since we got up here.”

Vortugalov had initially demanded that only Friedrich, Manfred, Garth and Alyosha go upstairs to his office but Marisol had burst into tears and explained everything to him then and there. Vortugalov had just stood there in horror and the room was deathly silent except for Marisol. Finally Friedrich had moved clumsily over to take her in his arms and pat her on the back.

Vortugalov had found his voice then and managed to ask the group, “is this true?”

Manfred started to deny it but his audience looked away in shame. A few had even admitted to what had been happening. 

So now Friedrich, Marisol, Manfred, Garth and Alyosha were all sitting in the headmaster’s office with the vice headmaster watching over them silently. The headmaster had taken the job of talking to everyone’s parents in the other room, undoubtedly spinning damage control. 

Cadet Vorvayne, apparently the sole source of good in this travesty, poked his head in, “The headmaster wants to see the students now.”

The group got up and filed out, Lord Vortugalov watched them all closely. Likely he was worried that someone would stab someone else between one room and the next. The students entered a conference room with much more seating. There were empty chairs placed next to each of the parents. 

Some of them showed obvious upset at the state of their son’s injuries. 

“Well you said they got into a fight, you didn’t say he was hit by a needle grenade,” Alyosha’s mother noted. She sounded as if a mild breeze would send her into full blown hysterics. 

The ambassador of Escobar anxiously checked his own daughter over and hugged her tightly. The other parents performed various interactions with their offspring.

“That’s a helluva injury on your hand boy. It should make an impressive scar,” Manfred’s father noted approvingly.

Manfred smiled weakly but didn’t comment.

Friedrich slumped into the chair next to Lady Alys and stared down at the table. He caught her looking at him but she didn’t say anything or reach out to touch him.  
“And you want to put demerits on these boys’ records while you let those two go scot free,” Garth’s mother demanded.

“Friedrich will receive demerits for fighting as well,” the headmaster, Sergei Vorshoi noted.

“This wasn’t a fight, this was one boy going ballistic because he thought his girlfriend was being slighted, stupid male pride,” Alyosha’s mother declared touching her son’s face.

“Ow, mama, leave it alone,” Alyosha whispered to her.

“He’s an animal and there’s hardly a scratch on him. How are you going to let him stay in school knowing what he’s capable of? Look he won’t even make eye contact. That’s not normal,” Garth’s mother declared.

“What’s not normal is that all I wanted to do was join in the cadets and Manfred shoved me against the wall and he was going to strip me naked. There was an entire room of people and all they did was encourage him,” Marisol was crying again. Her horrified father wrapped his arms protectively around her as she continued, “and Friedrich was the only one who tried to stop him.” 

The shocked silence was brief.

“You said they had a cultural misunderstanding that led to a fistfight,” the ambassador accused, enraged.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure the boys were just joking,” Manfred’s father stated reasonably.

“You say that because you don’t have any daughters,” Alyosha’s mother declared then turned on her son, “what is wrong with you? I have never taught you to behave this way towards a lady! I how- how could you?”

“Mama it was, I mean Marisol is so weird and what does she think she’s doing trying to join he cadets,” Alyosha stated.

His mother slapped him.

“Well now you’re not allowed in the cadets anymore at all,” Alyosha’s mother stated.

“But that’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not, but I’m going to wait until your father gets home so he can discipline you properly for disrespecting a woman,” Alyosha’s mother snarled.

“Don’t even look at me, what if that had happened to your little sister,” Garth’s mother whispered angrily to him. Garth had the good sense to look away and offer no comment.  
“How did this even happen at your school,” the Escobaran ambassador demanded.

“The cadets are built on a foundation of respect, loyalty and honor and we’ve never had this problem in the past. I assure you ambassador that we will be having an assembly on sexual harassment,” the headmaster promised.

“I imagine that if this behavior is so deeply ingrained in the culture that only one student made any attempt to stop it I doubt that one school assembly is not going to fix the problem,” Lady Alys noted neutrally.

“I don’t see why we have to waste class time on this,” Manfred’s father argued, “the boys need to be training for the Imperial Academy. They don’t need to talk about their feelings.”

“This! This is why every other planet regards you as a pack of uncivilized, ignorant, savage inbred hicks. I for one am sorry the Cetagandans only vaporized Vorkosigan Vashnoi when they should have saved the universe a great deal of trouble by exterminating all of you,” the ambassador roared. He stood up, grabbed his daughter and headed for the door.

“And I am unenrolling my daughter in this travesty that you call a school and into a proper galactic one. Provided we don’t just pack up in the middle of the night and leave! Fucking cockroaches!”

With that the ambassador and Marisol left.

The headmaster put his face in his hands. 

“Well now that the offworlders are gone, let’s be serious,” Manfred’s father went on turning to Simon.

“Captain Illyan, you must be teaching your boy some real moves that he took down my boy and his two friends like that. You think maybe you want to give everyone else a fighting chance and teach them some of those combat moves?”

“Dmitri I assure you that whatever happened downstairs I had no hand in it,” Illyan noted politely.

“Right,” Dmitri said, obviously not believing that statement but not quite brave enough to explicitly call Illyan a liar.

”Then where did you learn to do that,” he asked Friedrich directly.

Friedrich didn’t trust his voice. 

“Friedrich I am talking to you boy,” Dmitri said impatiently.

“My father – my father said that winning - that being a winner was something you simply were, it’s not taught, and failure – failure is a character flaw,” Friedrich noted shakily, “so I’m sorry sir, but I can’t do anything for your son.”

Friedrich stood up and walked out of the room. He limped down the hall, surmising that he must have re-sprained his ankle during the fight. At least no one was present to see him, Friedrich decided. He entered the men’s room but did nothing so dramatic as throw up. 

He touched his face and found himself crying, he put a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobbing. So if his father had been right and Friedrich had finally done something the old man would be proud of, then why did he feel so awful? 

Friedrich managed to clean himself up in the mirror. He wondered the whole time if he was going to be in worse trouble for walking out on the group of adults over this.  
I just wanted to get into the Imperial Military Academy, I didn’t want any of this. No, He didn’t want to get into the Imperial Military Academy, he truly didn’t want any of this.   
He stepped out of the bathroom to find Illyan propped up against the wall waiting for him. Had Illyan heard anything? 

Friedrich did not realize he could feel any more embarrassed.

“Is everything alright sir,” Friedrich asked.

Illyan studied him before answering, “depends… how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“They were breaking up in there when I went to go find you, we can go meet your lady aunt downstairs by the car. Perhaps get the personal physician over to the apartment to look at your ankle. I gather you re-sprained it during the fight.” 

Friedrich must have looked dismayed.

“Don’t worry boy, nothing a little ice and relaxation won’t cure,” Illyan promised.

Illyan lead him downstairs to the waiting groundcar. Lady Alys looked him over as he got in.

“Are you feeling better,” she asked looking over, “you were very pale inside earlier. At least you’re not shaking anymore  
.”  
“Yes, I’m fine thank you,” Friedrich stated, mortified by this attention.

Lady Alys seemed ready to say more, but at a motion from Illyan she allowed that topic to settle.

“You are suspended from the cadets for the rest of the school year as are the other boys. You will have to write an essay on proper conduct. It was also suggested that all four of you take a few days off to ah, collect yourselves and restart classes next week. Though it is not a formal suspension.”

Friedrich nodded and leaned back into the seat feeling exhausted.

“For future reference it is perfectly acceptable to find an adult authority figure,” Lady Alys added.

“Though your intervention was appropriate for protecting the girl and you undoubtedly prevented a very serious international disaster .I will be making a personal recommendation to Gregor to not allow Dmitri’s boy into the Academy, ” Illyan noted shaking his head.

 

It was only mid-afternoon when they returned to the apartment but neither adult complained when Friedrich changed into his knits and climbed into bed. 

 

Friedrich awoke sometime in the late evening in a darkening room to find Lady Alys standing over him, a hand on his forehead.

“I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you. I only wondered if you were getting sick,” she said, withdrawing her hand.

Friedrich sat up in bed.

“I was just very tired,” Friedrich said.

Lady Alys looked him over. Friedrich tried not to shrink under her gaze.

“I never did call for the physician,” Lady Alys said.

“It’s fine. I’m sure my ankle will heal on its own…. Everything is fine,” Friedrich said.

It was true he thought, he’d needed to handle the situation himself and he had. He needed to be able to handle his problems himself. He liked handling problems himself.   
Correction you enjoy beating people, Friedrich told himself.

It was true. In those moments when he’d been stomping on Manfred and his cronies he’d felt an insuppressible pleasure in all of it. An explosion of adrenaline and endorphins had erupted in his body. Of course the giddiness of it had worn off quickly, leaving him tired and disgusted. It must be the way a drug addict feels after a high, he thought. 

There was a pleasure to violence. Friedrich wondered, not for the first time, if he would turn out like his father.

He glanced up at his aunt’s face.

Have you realized I didn’t know when to stop?

Oh, Friedrich had a vague idea that he would have stopped. He’d have stopped when the threat was neutralized and Manfred and the others had stayed down.   
It was only after the brawl that Friedrich began to wonder what would have happened if the assistant headmaster hadn’t walked in. 

Perhaps I would have killed one of them, Friedrich thought with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Which part is fine? The concussion you gave the one boy or the stab wound you gave one of the others? Perhaps it is fine that you look as if you’re about to be sick. Are these all of these things fine with you Friedrich,” Lady Alys demanded sharply.

Of course a woman would never understand, Maximilian sneered in his head.

“I need to be able to handle my own problems,” Friedrich said finally.

“Handle your problems? Friedrich I do not know which – no that’s not true. I am perfectly aware that this is something your father must have told you. I will inform you now Friedrich Vordela that if you intend to enter the Imperial Military Academy and graduate you will have to learn what it means to use all of your resources. I have told you that I will help you if you need me. I am certain that Simon and even Ivan will help you if you need them. There’s no reason for you to injure yourself continuously simply because someone told you that you are not allowed to ask for help,” Lady Alys informed him intensely.

“I just… want to be strong enough,” Friedrich admitted.

“For what?”

Friedrich blinked at this and tried to find the words, “for anything. For everything.”

Lady Alys sighed, a ripple of sadness passed across her face, “Nobody is that strong dear. We all have our weaknesses. The key is to find people who are willing to cover them for you as you will help to cover theirs.”

“I’m sorry,” Friedrich said.

If it was sadness that passed across her features earlier, it was exasperation that crossed her features now.

“Why is that,” Lady Alys asked.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

Lady Alys reached out to smooth down an unruly hair on his head, “you’re a good boy Friedrich.”

I’m not.

“If you’d like something to eat, I could have something brought up to you,” Lady Alys said.

It was a huge concession on her part considering that she had politely, albeit insistently reminded him that food belonged only in the kitchen, dining room and living room when guests were present. It was definitely not acceptable to eat in one’s bedroom except under extreme circumstances.

“No thank you, I’d really like to go back to sleep now I’m so tired,” he said. 

Lady Alys frowned but didn’t insist. She kissed him once on the forehead in a maternal display, then removed herself from his room.


	11. Chapter 11

Friedrich rose from bed still feeling tired the next day. He managed to get dressed and ate something around midday. A physician arrived to advise on his ankle and general condition. The whole interaction left Friedrich exhausted and by late afternoon he found himself back in knits, in bed again.

They were supposed to go to the theater that evening. He was half worried Simon and Lady Alys would accuse him of malingering but they didn’t. 

 

It was sometime later when Friedrich was dozing that the door to his room was opened and Ivan strode in.

He unceremoniously ripped the blankets off Friedrich.

“Alright, get up. We’re going out,” Ivan informed his cousin.

Friedrich sat up and stared incredulously, “what?”

“Don’t make me get the ice bucket,” Ivan threatened.

“You wouldn’t ruin your mother’s bedding,” Friedrich shot back.

“Wouldn’t I,” Ivan demanded.

“Probably not,” Friedrich decided after a moment.

Ivan grumbled something before shrugging, “well fine, I wouldn’t. But you still have to get up.”

“I don’t feel well,” Friedrich said.

“That’s because you’ve been eating like an invalid. Once we get you up and eating normally you’ll be fine,” Ivan insisted

“Did aunt Alys put you up to this,” Friedrich asked.

“The chain of my command is none of your business, except for you to know that you are on the bottom. Now go get dressed or I’ll pick out some clothes for you,” Ivan threatened.

It wasn’t much of a threat.

Still, Friedrich acquiesced.

 

Ivan sighed as he watched Friedrich pick at his food.

“Alright spill it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Friedrich said with a shrug.

Ivan rolled his eyes, “Which is why you’ve been pushing the same damn green bean across your plate for the past five minutes. Come on, spill already, it’ll feel good and maybe you won’t be so sulky afterwards.”

“I’m not sulking,” Friedirch insisted.

“Now you’re pouting,” Ivan teased.

“I am not! I just,” Friedrich sighed, “do you think your mother would be disappointed if I didn’t get into the Imperial Military Academy?”

Ivan snorted, “Is this about you getting suspended from the cadets? Trust me it won’t be an issue. You’ll get in as long as you pass the written and physical tests.”

Friedrich continued to play with his food.

“Do you think she’d be disappointed if I didn’t want to get into the Imperial Military academy?”

“No,” Ivan said, looking at the dessert menu, “And you don’t get any dessert until you finish your dinner.”

“Ivan, be serious,” Friedrich said in exasperation.

“I’m older. I get to make the rules. Shocking as that may be… you know I’ve been surrounded my whole life by family members who were older than me. I never got to appreciate being the older, more venerable family member,” Ivan said, thoughtfully.

“I mean the vor are a military caste… and if I’m not in the military then I’m not really vor,” Friedrich said, continuing his line of thought and ignoring Ivan.

“You know you don’t always have to be so extreme. This is like your bullying problem, you have more options besides sucking it up and staying quiet and going berserk. Similarly, you’re not getting kicked out of the vor just because you don’t make it or don’t want to make it as an officer. There are plenty of famous vor in history who were engineers, scientists, business owners, and artists. They’re celebrated even though they never shot anybody. So don’t be so narrow minded. Also, I’m getting the molten lava cake.” Ivan said firmly.

 

They were deciding on whether or not to check out the new MAXvids at the cinema when Friedrich’s wristcomm alerted him to a call.

“Friedrich, dear boy, H have found something very interesting about your family history today. I was hoping you could come meet me in my office to discuss it this afternoon,” Pasha’s voice came over his wristcomm. The man attempted to project an air of good cheer but it seemed forced.

“Sorry, he can’t, we’re going to see ‘The man with no face’. Guess you’ll have to try a different day,” Ivan interjected cheerfully and tried to reach over and end the call on Friedrich’s wristcomm.

Friedrich pulled back, out of Ivan’s reach.

“Who is that,” Pasha asked, only a hint of sharpness in his voice. The man was taking pains to sound pleasant. Pasha sounded stressed.

“My cousin,” Friedrich admitted.

“The captain in Ops,” Pasha inquired.

“How does he know about me? I hope you’ve been telling him good things,” Ivan said with a slight frown.

“I haven’t told him anything about you,” Friedrich said, well hardly anything. Perhaps Friedrich had mentioned that Ivan didn’t like him during his meeting with Mikhail. But that was much earlier and now well… at least he thought they were getting along.

“I do hope you’ll reconsider Friedrich, you know I’m only on planet for a few more days. It’s important to keep our connections, and our oaths,” Pasha reminded him.

Friedrich sighed, yes, if you didn’t keep promises then what were you worth? Certainly he had a duty to figure out if someone really had helped kill his father and if so… well if so he supposed he’d do what needed to be done. 

Pasha cut the comm channel and an address flashed across the wristcomm’s face.

“Well he sounds like a weirdo,” Ivan decided grouchily.

“He is my father’s friend and I ought to go see him,” Friedrich said.

Ivan waved a hand at this idea, “alternatively you could just avoid him until he has to leave. If it’s really that pressing why can’t he just visit you at m’mother’s apartment,” Ivan asked.

“He doesn’t like Simon,” Friedrich admitted thinking about the blow up when Pasha had come to his aunt’s home.

“Well no one said he had to like Simon if he’s coming to see you,” Ivan pointed out.

Friedrich hesitated, “it’s important that I go see him.”

“Why?”

“It’s about my father’s death,” Friedrich admitted.

“Well then he definitely should be talking to my mother and Simon,” Ivan insisted.

“Ivan I have to do this,” Friedrich.

“There you go again! Did we not just have a conversation about extremes! Only heroes in vids take on the enemies singlehandedly. The rest of us poor bastards die ignoble deaths if we try that. Contrary to what your teen brain tells you, you’re not invincible, ok? Trust me, I know that from experience,” Ivan declared.

Friedrich sighed, “what if I only go see him for a few minutes. Please?”

Ivan scowled, “fine, but I’m ordering our tickets for the next showing so you’d better make this meeting fast.”


	12. Chapter 12

Ivan let Friedrich out of the car near the office building then presumably went to look for a garage. That or he planned to drive around and terrify pedestrians and motorists alike in the nearby area.

Friedrich coded himself into the building, it was after work hours and the place was empty except for a bored guard at the front desk. He followed his wristcomm’s directions to take a lift several floors up. When he reached the floor he got out and found himself face to face with two large men who looked like they knew how to handle themselves.

“Friedrich Vordela,” one inquired.

“That’s me,” Friedrich managed.

Perhaps Mikhail was here, Friedrich thought. Hadn’t Mikhail Vortemy mentioned he was kidnapped once? Perhaps these two were bodyguards to prevent that. 

Yes, but he had mentioned that anecdote while relating his misadventures on Jackson’s Whole, not here in Barrayar. So what were the guards for?  
In either case they led him down the hall, knocked once at a door and then ushered Friedrich in.

Friedrich entered with the two men following behind him. He found Pasha and Mikhail seated. Pasha looked tense while Mikhail lounged in his chair.

“Is your cousin here,” Pasha demanded, glancing beyond Friedrich to the two bodyguards.

Friedrich managed to shake his head at the abrupt question. He wondered if he should mention that Ivan would be coming back.

But Mikhail was already speaking, a smile on his lips, “you’re frightening the boy.”

Then Mikhail turned to Friedrich, “come Friedrich, sit down. Do you know what this room is?”

Friedrich glanced around it, there was a long table in the middle of it with chairs around it. It looked like a board room. 

“It’s a white room, used to discuss high level business transactions and other company changes and unveilings that you wouldn’t want your competitors to know about. It’s named because of the scrambling systems built into it. Bugs don’t work in here. Comms can’t be tapped, at least not easily, and the walls are soundproof to even high powered listening devices. It’s safe to discuss anything here,” Mikhail explained.

“Which is why we’ve chosen this place to show you something important,” Pasha interjected impatiently.

Mikhail looked only mildly annoyed at the interruption to his educational lecture. He waved his hands, signaling for the guards to leave and indicating that Friedrich should sit.  
“This might be a bit shocking to you, but you need to see this,” Mikhail stated, almost apologetic.

Friedrich raised an eyebrow as a holo screen descended.

The vid began with a man in civilian clothes with tears in his eyes and a giggle on his lips. He looked fairly young, perhaps in his mid-twenties. Had he been laughing so hard he was crying?

No… there was something about the eyes that suggested otherwise. There was also something about the man that seemed familiar.

“Tell the vidcam who you are,” an unseen interrogator asked.

“Just a bystander,” the man giggled.

Someone slapped him across the face, “not who you are when you’re hiding. Tell us who you really are. Tell us you work for Imperial Security.”

“I’m Lieutenant Oliver Campagna, of Imperial Security,” the man admitted.

“Good,” the unseen interrogator crooned, “now tell the vidcam what you’re really doing here. Why are you on Komarr?” 

“I’m a watcher. Just watching and reporting mostly,” Oliver explained.

“Who were you watching,” the interrogator asked.

“The exiles. The Barrayaran exiles. Have to make sure they’re not dangerous,” Oliver admitted.

“What do you do when they’re dangerous,” the interrogator asked.

“I report them,” Oliver said simply.

 

“What does ImpSec do when the exiles are dangerous,” the interrogator asked.

“Risk assessment, then… then if they’re really dangerous an agent will deal with it,” Oliver explained.

“Did you report that Maximilian Vordela was dangerous,” the interrogator asked.

Oliver giggled even as a tear rolled down his cheek, “of course. I –“

Pasha’s finger descended on the pause button, stopping the vid on the young man’s face. The holovid faded.

“I saw him at a company party,” Friedrich blurted.

Mikhail raised an eyebrow, Pasha looked similarly confused.

“I – I thought I knew him. I couldn’t remember where and then I thought – he worked with my father. That’s where I knew him from,” Friedrich admitted.

But he wasn’t the man who’d dueled Friedrich’s father. He wasn’t even one of the men who had stood by in the crowd. 

Mikhail and Pasha were watching him.

“Was that real,” Friedrich asked finally, feeling stupid as the words came out of his mouth.

“Did you think this was a game,” Pasha snapped.

Mikhail raised a hand to stop Pasha’s verbal onslaught.

Mikhail turned back to Friedrich before patiently explaining, “this is neither a joke or a test. This footage was from a real interrogation of an Imperial Security officer and we felt you needed to see this.”

Was that officer ok afterwards, Friedrich wanted to ask, but knew that was an equally stupid question. 

“But… why did ImpSec think my father was dangerous,” Friedrich managed to ask.

Surely if it was over Maximilian’s war record they would have executed him long ago. If it was for his less than patriotic grumblings about the emperor and his intended bride Laisa Toscane, then ImpSec would have to execute the entire Barrayaran enclave in Jepthro Dome for similar mutterings. Among the exile community there was a sense of betrayal by their emperor and a reinforced belief that Aral Vorkosigan had irreparably corrupted the emperor. Not that anyone claimed the emperor was any less Vor, at least not while sober.  
“I told you that your father discovered something while working. Since he worked for Toscane industries he was able to get a schedule of when Laisa Toscane would be returning for a crucial business meeting,” Pasha explained.

That wasn’t in itself illegal or dangerous, Friedrich thought. Surely employees of a company should have some idea of when their boss was coming for an inspection. Was ImpSec worried Maximilian had meant to assault Laisa Toscane?

“But any attempt my father would have made on her would have involved him passing by heavily armed guards with weapons scanners,” Friedrich said.

No way a vor with a grudge could get to the soon to be empress even if he wanted to. Moreover, killing her made little sense to Friedrich; it wasn’t her fault that she was Komarran. Besides, even if she was killed that did not mean the emperor couldn’t marry someone else… though rumor had it that if anything happened to Laisa Toscane the emperor would go insane with grief. There’d always been whispers and questions of his sanity. 

But if the Laisa died and the emperor was so wrapped in grief that he refused to re-marry or otherwise provide an heir that would plunge Barrayar into a war of succession.   
But maybe that was what Maximilian would have wanted; the chance to start anew with a proper, vor emperor. 

Mikhail took this time to remove a plasma arc from his waist coat and stroked it lovingly.

“You are correct Friedrich, your father would have had to pass armed guards with security scanners in order to catch even a glimpse of the emperor’s fiancee. But this is not only our problem, but the problem that many a Jacksonian hitman. How to get past the guards and security of a high level target. One genius Jacksonian engineer attempted to solve this. She found that obsinium, an element fond on the plains of Aslund can be used to produce plasma arcs which do not set off scanners. 

“So my father wanted to kill the emperor’s Komarran fiancée,” Friedrich said.

Mikhail smiled and turned to Pasha, “he’s such a smart boy.”

Mikhail turned back to Friedrich, “your father wanted more than that. He was a man of vision. He wanted to restore the Vor.”

With the blood of thousands if not millions, Friedrich thought. But then his father had lived and fought during the Pretendership, perhaps a few more dead bodies wouldn’t have bothered him. 

“Friedrich,” Mikhail said softly, walking up to the boy and putting a hand on his shoulder, “your father was a brave man. I know he raised you properly. So even though I know this is scary for you I am certain you will conquer your fears and help us.”

“I don’t think I could kill a woman,” Friedrich said wondering if Mikhail wanted Friedrich to take up where his father left off. He wasn’t prepared to assassinate Laisa Toscane.  
Mikhail waved this idea away, “then you won’t have to. But I know you want to avenge your father’s death, don’t you? You want to make the ones responsibly pay.”

“Do you know who drugged my father,” Friedrich asked. 

“Friedrich you have to think just a bit bigger than that,” Mikhail said patiently.

“You mean the ImpSec officer who decided my father was dangerous?”

“I’m thinking about the man who signed off on your father’s execution,” Mikhail said.

Friedrich wrinkled his brow as he thought, did Mikhail want to assassinate the current head of Imperial Security? But even he reported to – oh.

Mikhail smiled at the change in Friedrich’s expression when Friedrich realized what he was being asked to do.

“The emperor,” Friedrich whispered.

“He is no emperor of ours. Not after this level of cowardice, not after he murdered Maximilian without even facing him,” Pasha declared passionately.

“But, but how could I,” Friedrich began.

How could I do such a thing? 

Mikhail interpreted the question differently, “how can you kill him? With ease. Your family is in the emperor’s inner circle. You will surely be invited to an event where he is in attendance. You will get close to him, and then you will avenge your father.”

Friedrich tried to step back but Mikhail moved forward, “Friedrich, don’t worry. While Pasha is leaving in a few days to avoid arousing suspicion, I will be here. I will teach you everything you need to know.”

“Don’t just shoot the emperor, be certain to take out as many high ranking members of his coterie as possible. Vorkosigan himself if he is in attendance, and his dog for certain,” Pasha encouraged.

“Simon? But he’s retired,” Friedrich said.

“Your aunt and her lover Illyan are members of the emperor’s inner circle. You think they didn’t know and agree to your father’s death? They have blood on their hands. Likely they wouldn’t mind having your blood on their hands as well.” Mikhail noted.

Friedrich’s mouth dropped open. 

Mikhail gave him a pitying look, “dear boy, didn’t you wonder why your aunt and her lover were so quick to take you into their home after your father’s death? Especially when they’d never shown an interest in your before this. You know they have a saying about keeping your enemies close. What’s closer than under the same roof?”

But they’ve been so… nice. 

Nice, his father scoffed, are you a damn dog that flips unto its back every time someone is nice to you? Are you that pitiful?

“Why else did Illyan take your swords? He was trying to embarrass you and punish you. He wanted to establish his dominance and he thinks he has. But I’ll tell you a secret Friedrich Vordela. I know you’re stronger than he thinks you are. I know you’re smarter than he thinks you are and I know you are committed to your vorish duty,” Mikhail insisted.

Had his aunt and Illyan really invited Friedrich into their home as a means of spying on him? Was his aunt really so cold blooded that she would hug him while still being prepared to kill him or report him? 

It wouldn’t be the first time in history that a man was fooled by the ones he thought he could trust. 

“It’s alright boy. You’re upset because you were fooled. But I promise you that with my help you can avenge this injustice. I will make you the match that starts the flames of revolution,” Mikhail promised.


	13. Chapter 13

There it was then laid out in front of him, Friedrich thought. If the ImpSec agent on the vid could be believed then surely his aunt and Illyan had to have known of the cause of Friedrich’s father’s death. So he’d been keeping this secret for nothing. Odder still, they’d been keeping their knowledge of the duel secret from Friedrich.

No, not odd, not if Mikhail was to be believed, Friedrich decided. Surely they didn’t want to tip Friedrich off that they were aware of his lie of omission. 

So where does this leave me, Friedrich wondered unhappily.

Mikhail was about to continue on his monologue, a gleam in his eye, when suddenly they were interrupted.

“What the hell is going on,” Ivan demanded as he slid open the door. He was still in uniform, but didn’t pull off the authoritative Imperial Officer attitude quite. Rather he seemed peeved and out of sorts.

Mikhail looked up at Ivan.

“The kid and I have tickets to the cinema and the previews have already started. Also, your guards are extremely rude, and I have no idea why they told me no one is up here. I am definitely having all of this reported,” Ivan declared in a harassed tone.

“Who is this,” Mikhail asked with interest.

“He is the son of Lady Alys. The Ops officer,” Pasha stated coolly.

“That’s right, I’m a captain in Imperial Operations. So – so there,” Ivan said moving forward to grab Friedrich.

“I told you to make it quick and – and why do you look ready to cry,” Ivan asked uneasily.

“Friedrich and I have been talking about his father. Did you know that Maximilian died in a duel,” Mikhail asked Ivan.

Ivan glanced down at Friedrich, “that wasn’t the official report.”

Mikhail smiled, “but you didn’t believe the official report did you? You’re good at figuring things out aren’t you?”

“No one has ever claimed that,” Ivan said with the look of a man who was given a bag that might contain venomous snakes. 

“This won’t do at all,” Mikhail declared softly.

The two guards from earlier stepped into the room, both holding plasma arcs now. Ivan’s eyes bugged out. Friedrich felt his own eyes bug out at this too and he glanced up at Mikhail who looked smug. 

Surely they weren’t thinking to – but Ivan wasn’t the problem, Friedrich thought.

“Civilians are not supposed to have those,” Ivan said.

“The captain can’t be allowed to live,” Pasha declared.

“You’re crazy if you think you can kill me in Vorbarra Sultana and get away with it,” Ivan declared. He sounded nervous.

Who wouldn’t be if someone had just promised to kill you?

“But he doesn’t even know anything,” Friedrich said, trying to find a scenario in which Ivan lived.

Even if aunt Alys and Simon had known about Friedrich’s father and had agreed to his death, Ivan hadn’t. Nor had he pretended to like Friedrich initially. Ivan had never pretended to care when he didn’t. Wasn’t Ivan at least genuine? Shouldn’t that mean something?

So who do you owe your allegiance to, Friedrich thought. Friedrich had sworn allegiance to the emperor. But then the emperor had surely broken that pact when he’d killed Friedrich’s father.

Surely it was Friedrich’s duty to avenge his father and surely it was cowardly for a man, even the emperor, to have a lackey dispense with Maximilian rather than fighting Maximilian himself. Of course the emperor had a right and a duty to protect his fiancée, or even any woman in general.

Well then who the hell was right?

Mikhail pet Friedrich on the head even as he looked at Ivan, “our Friedrich is such a good boy. If only he were more discerning in the people he pledged his loyalty to.”

“I’ll say,” Ivan muttered.

If Friedrich decided to be loyal to his family that meant he ought to protect Ivan, but it also meant he ought to stand with his father.

If Friedrich chose to follow his oaths… well he’d made one oath to serve the emperor and one to find his father’s murderer and avenge his father. Either way he was bound to break an oath. 

How the hell did I get myself into this, Friedrich wondered.

Bit by bit it seemed. 

Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and sometimes bad things happen because you’re stupid and you make bad choices, his father’s voice observed.

Thanks Da.

“Well… I had hoped to help you work your way up… but c’est la vie. Friedrich, let’s make this our first practice,” Mikhail said brightly as he offered the plasma arc to the boy.  
Friedrich considered the weapon and slowly reached up to take it from Mikhail. It didn’t weigh much. The gun wasn’t anywhere near as heavy as his fencing blades or his father’s swords. 

“Have you ever fired one, boy,” Mikhail asked.

“Friedrich, just put the plasma arc down,” Ivan said in horror.

Friedrich looked over at his cousin.

The surreal quality of the situation hit Friedrich as he considered that less than half an hour ago they’d been sitting across the table from each other having dinner.   
Surely you can’t shoot the man who has fed you, and picked you up after you were almost mugged, and tried to get you that waitress’s comm-number, even if you didn’t want it.  
But to fail to shoot Ivan meant…Friedrich glanced over at the two guards. Their hands were on their own plasma arcs. It was a loose grip, but a grip nonetheless and a good reminder that if Friedrich didn’t do something they would. 

For a wild moment Friedrich considered what a shoot out with them would be like. 

It would be like you raising that plasma arc and one or both of them shooting you dead like an animal, he thought to himself. 

Maximilian had always said death before dishonor and – well no matter what Friedrich did he was going to be dishonored whether he failed his father or he failed Ivan.

His chest was pounding.

“Go on boy. He’s one of the enemy. He put your father in a grave. Just point, squeeze the trigger and I’ll get the other two to clean up. We can go for ice cream,” Mikhail offered pleasantly.

“I can’t,” Friedrich croaked.

He’d meant to say it defiantly. 

He’d meant to sound brave.

Friedrich glanced at Ivan who seemed only more horrified by this exchange rather than relieved. 

If there’s nothing else I can offer, at least I can end up dead with you rather than save my own sorry skin. But Ivan seemed unhappy with this offering.

No surprise, it was a piss poor gift to a man who’d been so… so what? So nice to you, his father’s voice demanded. There you go again, rolling over for anyone who will offer you a belly rub.

Friedrich turned away from Ivan.

“You will avenge your father and help us if I have to break you in two,” Pasha shouted.

Mikhail did not get angry.

Mikhail fixed Friedrich with a sympathetic look, “the first death is always the hardest, even if you are killing your backstabbing cousin. It’s alright, I’ll help you.”

Mikhail’s face was gentle but his actions were not as he grabbed Friedrich and twisted the boy around. 

Mikhail’s hand gripped Friedrich’s which was wrapped around the plasma arc. He swung Friedrich around like a marionette and forced him to point the weapon at Ivan. 

Underneath the business suit, Mikhail was muscular and his grip was bone crushing. 

Friedrich was reminded of a news story he’d read about boy soldiers. One method militias used to recruit their boy soldiers was to force the boy to commit an atrocity in his home village. That way, even if he ran away from the militia he could never go home.

“Just relax, you and I are going to be fine,” Mikhail promised, whispering in Friedrich’s ear. 

Friedrich shut his eyes and turned away.

One shot rang out.

Mikhail let go.

All hell broke loose.

“We’ve been betrayed,” Pasha shouted.

Friedrich opened his eyes to see the two guards launch themselves towards the door. They ran as if they were being chased by the hounds of hell. Pasha made a similar scramble but Ivan clotheslined him.

“Asshole,” Ivan declared angrily looking down at Pasha.

It was then that Friedrich turned around to see half of Mikhail’s head missing. Friedrich glanced to the window and saw a single entry point through the glass. It was from a plasma rifle, obviously fired from some distance away.

Seconds later the room was swarming with Imperial Security agents.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. He’s with me,” Ivan insisted, pulling Friedrich out of the room.

Friedrich saw the dead bodies of Mikhail’s two guards, plasma arcs still in hand. Apparently they’d tried to have a shoot out with ImpSec. 

Friedrich couldn’t believe that they’d died so quickly. They’d only been running out of the room a few moments ago, he thought hazily.

Friedrich made it to the lift before his stomach contents finally revolted.

 

Ivan sat with one fraternal arm around Friedrich and one hand wrapped around a flask of ‘medicinal’ brandy that he’d gotten off a medtech.

They were seated in the back of an emergency response vehicle, ERV. 

Ivan had taken off the trauma blanket he’d been given, he was plenty warm. Friedrich still wore his, which was fine, at least he’d stopped shivering.

“To be fair, that wasn’t even my nearest death experience,” Ivan said while offering the flask to Friedrich.

Friedrich accepted the flask and took a gulp but made no comment.

That was fine, Ivan decided, at least he wasn’t puking or dry heaving. Or crying, Ivan thought. He hated crying.

“I’m sure m’mother and Simon will be along shortly so we can leave soon,” Ivan promised.

Friedrich took another swig of the brandy and stared off into the distance.

Ivan decided firmly that he was not cleaning up any puke. There was a medtech around here who would just have to clean out the vehicle if need be.

“You’re not going to get into trouble for this. There are enough witnesses to prove that,” Ivan insisted.

Oh they were probably both going to get chewed out by Ivan’s mother. But she was empathetic enough to wait until they were in a state that could handle being chewed out. 

It was a hell of a good thing that the outer perimeter man was such a marksman. He would also be one of the witnesses to testify that Friedrich wasn’t dangerous if need be. Hell if that ImpSec fellow had thought the kid was a threat he would have just aimed a little lower in order to take Friedrich and the guy in the business suit out in one shot. 

Ivan figured that wasn’t something he should say. He kept it to himself.

He also thought he should make a note to buy that fellow a beer, or a keg, or maybe a brewery all things considered.

“Did your mother and Simon both know my father died in a duel,” Friedrich finally asked.

“If they did they didn’t tell me,” Ivan said firmly. Which was true, and he was not going to talk about Simon’s speculations that one evening.

“Mikhail said ImpSec drugged my father so he’d lose the duel,” Friedrich said.

“Well how the hell did he know that,” Ivan asked.

“They, or someone at least, interrogated a deep cover agent and got a confession that way,” Friedrich said.

Ivan closed his eyes briefly. He remembered reading some rather gruesome tales of what happened to spies who were caught by Vordarian’s men during the Pretendership. He did not want to know what happened to the poor bastard who’d been caught. 

Well, if that maniac Pasha had held any hope of leniency that was kissed goodbye.

“Mikhail said they probably agreed to my father’s murder. But… I mean surely your mother at least didn’t know. She’s only the emperor’s social adviser, right,” Friedrich asked, pleading for agreement. 

Ivan did not wish to point out that Lady Alys did a whole hell of a lot more than just party planning. He figured now was not anywhere near the right time for that discussion. 

“I think they just want what’s best for you,” Ivan said carefully.

“Mikhail said they wanted to keep me close so they could spy on me. They were waiting to see if I was going to follow in my father’s footsteps,” Friedrich said.

That wasn’t a complete lie, Ivan thought. But likely not for the reasons Mikhail had outlined.

“I suspect your not-friend was trying to manipulate you to get you to do what he wanted,” Ivan said firmly.

Friedrich took another swig of the brandy.

“You need to at least share that,” Ivan said reaching over and taking the flask away from Friedrich, then taking a swig himself.

He’d had a traumatizing experience too thank you very much. Of course he’d had a lot of practice with trauma early on thanks to Miles. At least this time he hadn’t been locked in a tiny, dark chamber full of water.

“Ivan,” his mother’s voice called, startling him out of his claustrophobic thoughts.

He glanced over to see her and Simon with a medtech in tow. 

“Yes they are provisionally cleared, but I believed Major Vortiene still wanted to debrief them,” the medtech was saying.

“I’m certain that can wait ensign,” Simon said with a wave of his hand.

The man did not gainsay him. It was as if Simon were still Chief of ImpSec.

Ivan climbed down from his position in the back of the vehicle to offer his mother a hug. Friedrich followed behind him after a moment, though he shrugged off the trauma blanket before stepping out. Friedrich also stumbled on his landing. Ivan wasn’t sure if that was from alcohol or because of his ankle.

Friedrich mechanically accepted a hug from Ivan’s mother. The kid looked as if he were attending a funeral; like he was attending a grandparent’s funeral. Someone you’d known would die one day; that you’d prepared for it; but it was still painful.

“If they have conducted a medical exam and found you fit then perhaps we should return to my apartment where you can tell us what happened,” Lady Alys said looking Friedrich over worriedly.

For his part, the boy looked distracted by something further down the street, passed the cordoned off area.

Not that Ivan saw anything down that way.


	14. Chapter 14

So what was to be done with him, Friedrich wondered. He was seated in a public park, fairly close to his aunt’s apartment. His aunt and Simon had directed their questions at Ivan during the car ride back to Lady Alys’s apartment. Friedrich’s aunt had only asked him one question as they entered her apartment.

“Friedrich, how are you feeling?” 

He’d stood there a moment before answering, “I need to go out.”

He was still shocked that no one had stopped him from leaving. But then, if there was anything he’d learned it was that he couldn’t get far without being watched.

Not that there was much to see. 

Friedrich was seated at a bench, overlooking a duck pond with a bag of bread next to him. The sun was just low enough that the park lamps had turned on.

Well what do you want to do, he asked himself. You better figure that out before you start worrying about what they want to do with you.

“Friedrich,” a female voice inquired.

Friedrich froze, until he realized that wasn’t his aunt’s voice. He wasn’t ready to deal with her yet.

He glanced over to see Marisol heading over to him. Behind her stood two tall, well dressed fellows with bulges in their coats indicating they were carrying stunners. They were her bodyguards then. An older woman was present as well, but judging by her deference to Marisol Friedrich couldn’t imagine that was her mother. Both men clutched bags, suggesting Marisol had been shopping.

“Well what are you doing here,” Marisol asked curiously.

Friedrich sighed, “I brought bread to feed the ducks but then a woman scolded me, saying that bread is actually bad for them… so now I just have a bag of bread.”

Even simple activities were beyond him it seemed.

Marisol laughed at this, “don’t look so downtrodden. I imagine you can make sandwiches with it, or my embassy’s chef can show you how to make a bread crust for chicken parmesan.”

He considered this, then spoke carefully, “so your father hasn’t decided to return with you to Escobar then?”

Marisol shook her head, “the evening of, well after that incident with Manfred my father was bristling about the house, wanting to pack my little sisters and I up and head back immediately. But emperor Gregor paid us a visit. He spoke with my father for some time and at the end of it my father agreed to stay. I’m going to continue at school and apparently they’re setting up a girls expeditionary squad that gets to do the same things as the cadets.”

“Will that be… difficult with Manfred still there,” Friedrich asked cautiously. He was worried the larger boy might be looking to get even for his public humiliation.

Marisol’s eyebrows went up, “Manfred got expelled and sent to boarding school on the tip of South Continent.”

“What,” Friedrich asked. 

That was an unusual decision by the headmaster. Were they all getting expelled? It would certainly make things easier for his aunt and Simon, he decided.

“From my understanding Emperor Gregor decided to modify the punishment,” Marisol explained. 

Friedrich blinked, surely that debacle was such a microscopic blip on the emperor’s agenda. And – well she was the daughter of an ambassador, Friedrich supposed.

“Your emperor is such a charming man. I’ve met him at a handful of dinners hosted at the Residence. I am surprised that you hadn’t heard anything, considering who your aunt is,” Marisol said.

Friedrich shrugged. He’d only ever seen the emperor in news vids. He knew his aunt visited the man frequently, and that Illyan probably stopped in from time to time to offer his advice on current affairs. Friedrich had figured they didn’t want to stress him by introducing him to the emperor, that they were waiting. Now… well maybe they’d been worried Friedrich would do something stupid or crazy in the emperor’s presence. 

“My family doesn’t talk much to each other,” Friedrich said.

More specifically they didn’t talk much to him. Nor he to them, he admitted.

“Are you having trouble with your aunt and uncle? I hope it’s not because of the fight. You know I never really thanked you for coming to my rescue,” Marisol said in concern.

“No. It’s nothing to do with that, and stepping in was nothing. It’s a lot of things. I don’t think I’m going to be staying much longer,” Friedrich admitted.

Marisol’s eyebrows drew up, “are you going back to live with your mother?”

“No,” he said. She didn’t want him.

“Is your father’s family demanding that you live with them? I know you Barrayaran’s have unusual custody laws,” Marisol said.

“No,” Friedrich admitted. His father’s older brother was dead. He’d been blown up by a mis-thrown needle grenade during the Pretendership. He had second cousins somewhere, but understandably they wanted nothing to do with an exile.

“I’ve been thinking about boarding schools,” Friedrich said. Something far away.

“Is it that bad in your home,” Marisol asked quietly.

“It’s complicated.

Marisol made a face, “are you angry with your aunt and uncle?”

No.

Yes.

But he wasn’t supposed to be. He and his aunt and Illyan had all failed to inform each other of what they knew. He couldn’t blame them for that. His aunt and Illyan weren’t responsible for what had been happening when Maximilian was still alive. But you knew about that didn’t you Simon? 

If ImpSec deep cover agents had been investigating Maximilian’s life then they must have been aware of the sort of punishments he meted out to Friedrich and his mother. Though Friedrich admitted that within the enclaves of the exiles it was understood that a man owned his wife and children, and his word was law. Friedrich knew he wasn’t the only one who was punished by his father.

But you stood by because we weren’t worth your agent breaking cover to report the abuse, Friedrich thought angrily.

“You know, if you have a problem the best thing to do is talk to them about it. You don’t want these things to fester,” Marisol counseled.

“I suppose,” Friedrich said.

“Marisol, love, we have to be going. It’s almost dinner time,” the female servant noted.

Marisol paused before she left, “you’re going to go home tonight, right?”

Friedrich sighed, “yes, in a bit.”


	15. Chapter 15

Friedrich did eventually return to his aunt’s apartment.

“I think I should look into boarding schools,” he informed his aunt quietly.

Lady Alys sighed in exasperation, “that is hardly necessary, we know-“

“I want to move out,” Friedrich said cutting her off. Somewhere in his mind he could hear his etiquette tutor having a stroke. Friedrich found he couldn’t care.  
He was old enough to be emancipated. He wondered where he would get a job though. Then the question of how he would continue his schooling came up.  
Hell, I don’t care, Friedrich thought in disgust.

He headed off to his room.

 

“Ivan where are we going,” Friedrich asked impatiently.

“I’m to introduce you to a man and I’m not to pre-discuss it,” Ivan said firmly.

“For the love of- this isn’t a date is it,” Friedrich demanded. He really had a lot on his mind right now and he wasn’t sure he trusted his cousin to find him a boyfriend.

The past day had been tense. But surely this wasn’t some – God what the hell was this, Friedrich wondered.

“Nope,” Ivan stated but said no more.

When they arrived at the Residence Friedrich sat up and began to realize the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s fine, he’s not going to eat you,” Ivan said ushering Friedrich along.

He of course being Emperor Gregor Vorbarra, the ruler of three worlds.

Palace guards came forward to scan them before they entered the building. Friedrich was half surprised they did not attempt a more thorough investigation considering the weapon Mikhail had shown Friedrich. Certainly more would be assassins could get their hands on such plasma arcs. 

But they were allowed in without incident.

It was in one sunny room with several bookcases and a quaint coffee table that separated two couches where they found the emperor studying a reader.

He looked up and smiled as Ivan and Friedrich were introduced.

“Hello Ivan, have you had a chance to view the gardens,” Gregor inquired.

“Some of it, did your gardener put in more of those orange and blue flowers? I can never remember their names,” Ivan admitted.

“Yes. But she said she would scalp you if you tried to dig them up and steal them again,” the emperor noted with only the hint of a smile.

“It was just the one time! And for a good reason,” Ivan defended.

“Ivan had forgotten Mother’s day and was looking for a last minute present,” Gregor explained for Friedrich’s benefit.

Ivan grumbled some things then turned to Friedrich.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Ivan said before heading for the door.

“That could be dangerous,” Gregor teased quietly.

He turned back to Friedrich and indicated the couch in front of him.

“Please sit down.”

Friedrich obeyed.

“I heard about your recent encounter with Vorgosha and Vortemy. You were very brave,” Gregor noted solemnly.

“I literally did nothing,” Friedrich blurted in confusion.

The emperor’s eyebrows rose up, “I should hardly think standing up to the demands of several armed individuals as nothing.”

“I mean, there wasn’t anything else I could do,” Friedrich tried to explain but he didn’t have the words. Damn but if Ivan had said something sooner Friedrich could have… what? Surely his thoughts would have been just as scattered.

“It was a matter of honor as much as anything,” Friedrich finally said with a shrug.

“And so we come to the question of self sacrifice… I understand you’ve taken much of your anger out on your aunt,” the emperor noted.

Friedrich flinched like he’d been slapped. Well he hadn’t hit her, or yelled or done anything particularly horrible. Things had just been tense.

Didn’t he have the right to be that way though? If someone had sat by when they knew what had been going on in his father’s home wasn’t anger a reasonable response?   
Certainly it had only happened as a means of keeping their deep cover agent under wraps. Reports of domestic violence would have raised suspicion in an enclave that would never snitch on any of its own. People would have started hunting for the outsider.

“I mean I get why it had to happen,” Friedrich said, continuing aloud from his own thoughts.

“If you have an escape pod that only has enough oxygen for forty people and you have forty one passengers then someone has to die for everyone else to live. But I don’t have to like it, do I sire” Friedrich asked looking the older man in the eye.

Gregor opened his hand in what Friedrich took to be a silent apology, “self sacrifice is part and parcel of being vor. Even I can’t change this nor could I wish to. It is part of your duty and your privilege.”

“That gets kind of old after a while,” Friedrich said.

He felt shame at this. But really, every time he’d gotten in trouble it was because he’d been trying to live up to someone else’s expectation of him. 

“Would you like to be released from your oaths,” Gregor asked in surprise.

Maybe

“I just… I’d like to know why I’m being thrown out of the escape pod beforehand next time. With all due respect Sire, I’ve had enough of adults around me deciding when and how I should be used without explaining things to me,” Friedrich said.

The emperor considered this quietly. Friedrich wondered uneasily if he ought to apologize for his bluntness.

“Has that been a problem with your lady aunt and Simon,” the emperor inquired.

Friedrich blinked at this, it took him a moment to switch gears and consider them.

“No,” Friedrich admitted.

“But you feel they’ve been mistreating you, hence your desire to leave,” the emperor inquired.

Freidrich shrugged, and what did it matter to this man what he did? 

“I just think I should be alone right now,” Friedrich said.

The emperor’s eyebrows rose, “forgive me, but my understanding of things is that you’ve had the most trouble when you try to handle things on your own. I don’t mean that as a shortcoming for you. I couldn’t run an empire without a host of individuals aiding me from my advisers to my cleaning staff.”

Friedrich considered this. If even the Vor needed help, then surely his father’s insistences about a man handling his own affairs – come on, you knew a lot of that was bullshit for some time. But then knowing something in your head didn’t necessarily translate to believing it in your soul.

More than that the emperor’s comment reminded Friedrich of a similar comment his aunt had made. After the fight with Manfred she had also pointed out how things would have gone more smoothly if he’d gotten help. Things had definitely gone more smoothly for cadet Vorvayne, the one cadet who had gone in search of help. 

If you keep getting the same advice it might be a good idea to start taking it, he thought.

 

It seemed like good advice all things considered. In truth Friedrich’s biggest problems were holdovers from his life on Komarr rather than anything his aunt or her lover had introduced into his life. If anything his relatives here had tried to mitigate the impact of his Komarran relations, Friedrich silently admitted.

If Ivan hadn’t been there, what would have happened? 

“I didn’t want to kill anyone,” Friedrich admitted aloud.

The emperor offered a small smile, “I do appreciate that.”

Friedrich hesitated before speaking up, “do you think domestic violence will always survive as a social norm within the Barrayaran circles of Komarr?”

Gregor made a face at this, “we have been trying to expand and improve current protections in such matters. Changing cultural norms is unfortunately a slow process and the change will not be overnight.”

But peaceful change never was, Friedrich thought.

His aunt and Simon had tried to be protective of him…

Gregor waited quietly to allow Friedrich time to cogitate and digest.

“Will you be staying with your lady aunt?”

“I suppose. I think she and I need to talk,” Friedrich said thoughtfully.


	16. Epilogue

“But why did Vortemy douse himself in eutocin during his initial encounter with Friedrich,” Miles asked impatiently.

He and Ivan were seated in one of the many rooms of Vorkosigan house. Ivan was catching his cousin up on everything Miles had missed during his case on Komarr. Miles was thoroughly put out that Ivan had had a near death experience without him.

Ivan shrugged, “m’mother thinks it was part of an effort to groom the kid.”

The boy, Friedrich, was with them. Sort of. Actually he was passed out on one of the couches. Ivan had rolled Friedrich unto his side and into the recovery position because Ivan was thoughtful like that. Also there would be hell to pay if the little bastard asphyxiated on his own vomit.

The kid had been doing so well, matching Ivan drink for drink earlier. Then he’d burst into a particularly bawdy song that Ivan could only assume was an old vor drinking song. It would have horrified Lady Alys. Ivan just thought it was hilarious. After that Friedrich had passed out on the couch.

Ivan occasionally roused him to make sure the kid wasn’t dead.

It left Ivan and Miles to catch up in semi-private.

“That seems like a great deal of trouble to hinge on such an uncertain outcome,” Miles observed.

“Well they seemed to think they could get Friedrich to do what they wanted. They were wrong about that of course,” Ivan said. 

Miles took time to digest this, but if he was ruminating on Ivan's almost-death he didn't say anything to that effect.

“So what’s it like sharing your mother’s affections with yet another male,” Miles inquired.

Ivan refused to be baited, “the kid’s alright. M’mother has been tormenting him though. She made him sign up for model United Federations and the debate team. She says he needs to learn how to talk to people.” 

Miles smiled at that, “not that those clubs helped you any.”

“I get along just fine thank you. People don’t usually try to kill me unless you two are around,” Ivan declared hotly.

Miles smirked, “So are you taking Friedrich back to your mother like this? I’ve seen worse drunks, but still.”

“Yeah he is sickeningly cute the way he’s curled up like that. Makes you want to pour a bucket of ice water on him,” Ivan observed. 

Ivan swirled his wine bottle.

“I suppose I could take him back to my place and dump him on the couch. Might be easier than trying to sneak him into her apartment later. Not unless you want to keep him. I mean you already got all those cats, what’s one more mouth the feed for the night,” Ivan asked.

Miles snorted, “he’s more closely related to you, you keep him. Besides, with my mother gone and now I’ve only just gotten back I don’t have much of a staff at the moment.”  
“No one to clean up the vomit if the kid pukes, eh,” Ivan teased.

“Exactly, whereas you have that discreet cleaning service who can handle it,” Miles pointed out.

“They only come twice a week,” Ivan grumbled.

“Then you have to be strategic about when you take Friedrich drinking,” Miles noted.

 

It was sometime much later that Ivan half carried Friedrich out to an autocab. Ivan had had just enough of near death experiences this week and was willing to take his cousin’s advice and not drive home.

“Thank you Ivan,” Friedrich muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, just remember how thankful you are of me tomorrow when you wake up with a killer hangover,” Ivan said.

Secretly Ivan was pleased that he had at least one relative who was openly appreciative of him and didn’t call him an idiot. 

Yeah, the kid wasn’t that bad after all.


End file.
